


Awakened (A Hazbin Fanfic)

by ErisMarriott



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Blood and Violence, F/F, F/M, Minor Charlie Magne/Vaggie, Murder, POV Female Character, Slow Build, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 48,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23706754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisMarriott/pseuds/ErisMarriott
Summary: You (Reader) are murdered by a serial killer; when you awaken, you find yourself in Hell a year after the Hazbin Hotel first opened.When you see an advertisement on screen and realize that you're still far too human to survive on the streets alone, you make your way to its entrance. However, if you're in Hell for the reason you think, then you're far from desiring the redemption and chance at entering Heaven that the Hotel touts.Of course, this little revelation puts you right on the radar of the infamous Radio Demon, who is far more than he seems.And of course, what does the hotel look like a year after opening?
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader, Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 297
Kudos: 595





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated. 
> 
> Trying to keep the characters true to themselves, but they will eventually evolve along with the original storyline I've created, so please bear with me. 
> 
> This story is also available on Wattpad; I operate there under the same username, so please don't be alarmed--it has not been stolen. :)
> 
> [I have updated to allow comments without prior approval. I realize now what "comment moderation" means and I apologize for making commenting so difficult. I'm new to AO3 so I did it as a precaution in the beginning. Hopefully this will make commenting easier and more attractive for people who want to give feedback or general thoughts about the work :) ]
> 
> Updated to explicit due to the violent nature of the nightmares that Reader will experience in future chapters.

Somewhere under the starry sky of a moonlit beach, you closed your eyes for the last time. Your (h/c) hair stretched about the sand, treacherous and beautiful—encapsulated and still, as though the breeze from the sea were not disturbing your body at all. 

Your hands clutched themselves about your chest in a last testament to your quiet poise. It would be days before the dogs found you. This wasn’t a well-known shoreline; a body was the last thing anyone would expect to find there. They knew you were missing. Swept away by a violent serial killer, no one dared assume that they might find you alive. It was long past the twenty-four hour mark. 

What no one expected was the other body not three-hundred feet from you. Knife wounds bled out into the sand, your killer successfully bested by his last victim. Only in your last moments did you realize that the poison he’d dosed you with had been too much. You made your last mark on borrowed time. But it was enough. 

A small smile froze upon your lips, your eyes glazed over with secret delight and memories lost to time. 

It was over for you on Earth. 

But, truly, it was just the beginning.


	2. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally arrive in Hell. You still haven't taken on your demon form... That might be an invitation for disaster.

Your eyes flutter open; terror consumes your beautiful eyes at the sight of a blood-red sky. High above you is some crude rendition of a sun or moon, its dark red surface emblazoned with a bright-red pentagram. Beyond it, you see the faint outline of a much brighter, beautiful spatial body. Despite your well-tuned eyesight, it was too far out for you to see any details. It shed no light here, though. Only to the borders of its distant place in the sky did its light shine. 

You reach out to it in a daze, intent upon reaching it. 

Only the sound of distant screaming jolts you from your stupor. You pull yourself from the ground, unsure of how you landed there in the first place. It’s at that moment you realize that you’re still wearing the clothes you wore when you died. 

Your blood—and his—stain your ripped jeans and a plain black t-shirt. It’s clear to passing strangers that you landed here for murder. But, to you, you’re not so sure it’s fair. It doesn’t take you but a few blinking tears to realize where you are. 

Hell. 

Gunshots rip through the not-so-silent night. Everlasting night. You could tell that the red pentagram above would do little to light these streets. Red, your favorite color, began to grow dull on your eyes. 

Shaking yourself, you feel the blood quicken in your veins. 

How did I end up here?

Not far from you, a bar is filled with the hustle and bustle of its usual party-goers. In the distance, you see a tall clock-tower. 

365 days remaining. 

“Remaining until?”

You realize too late that you’ve spoken aloud. Of course, no one pays you any particular mind anyway. Why would they? Everyone was crazy in Hell. 

“Hey, move out of the way!” 

A loud honking startles you again. You look over to see you’re blocking traffic. 

“Highway to Hell, indeed,” you laugh. “Sorry!” 

You wave your hand and move from the street. Not many cars passed through here. Not as many as you were used to when you were… alive. 

Frowning, you return your attention to the bar across the street. Televisions are placed all about the window; a woman—demoness, rather—with bleach blonde hair and screeching red eyes cracks and creaks on the screen, reading about overlords trying to dominate each other in a race to control different parts of Hell following the… extermination? 

“What the hell is an extermination?”

You blink, fear creeping back under your skin. 

Before you can think to ask, the screen flits to a throw-back sequence. 

Killjoy continues on, completely unbothered by the sickening reports just prior. 

“Today is the one-year anniversary of the opening of Charlie Magne’s Happy Hotel… or should I say, Hazbin Hotel. Today, she joins us to update us on the progress of her establishment’s goal. So, Charlie, have you successfully managed to ‘rehabilitate’ any demons and send them on to Heaven?”

There’s venom in her voice and eyes. Tension crackles between the two from behind the desk they sit at. Charlie gives her acquaintance a wide, threatening berth. 

“Not yet, Katie. But, we’re making excellent progress. As you know, with the help of Alastor, our establishment has seen a massive uptick in residency. We now have as many as fifty guests that are working hard to make their pathway to Heaven. A few residents might even be ready for our initial trial at getting them in.” 

“Fifty? That’s hardly anything to be proud of.” 

Her neck cracks as she stares down at Charlie, whose lamp-like eyes narrow. 

“Well, Katie, may I remind you that I have fifty residents prior to a single case of successful rehabilitation. Once we have someone pass through Heaven’s gates, I assure you, we’ll have more. Right now, we’re still in an experimental phase.” 

Katie smiles; you’re positive you see saliva slime its way down her wicked fangs. 

“Well, I’m afraid that’s all the time we have. If you think this ridiculous little stint is worth trying out, contact Charlie Magne at the number on the screen!” 

The number flashes for a few seconds before Charlie is escorted off-screen. This leaves you spinning. That girl. 

“Who’s Charlie Magne?” 

The question, once again asked aloud, erupts a chorus of laughter from beside you. A strange, aquatic-looking demon bares his teeth at you. 

“The Princess of Hell, stupid. Daughter of Lucifer himself. She’s all the rage around here. Laughing stock, really. There’s rumors that the king might disown her altogether if she keeps her hotel shenanigans up. The only thing keeping her ass from being kicked to the farthest regions of Hell is that Radio Demon. His reputation and interest in the place is the only thing keeping that damned hotel afloat.” 

He eyes you up and down, scales becoming more luminescent despite there being no light. You wince. 

“Why aren’t you in your demon form yet?”

You look down to see your utterly human hands. Your skin is still a warm reminder of life. It courses with human blood. It pales as you realize your vulnerability. 

“Come here, toots,” the demon grins. 

You back away, knowing full well that it’s time to run again. 

I’m only dead for a few minutes and I’m already being chased again. Why? Why me?

You book it down the streets of Hell. In the distance, you see it. The hotel. Of course, it reads “Hazbin” instead of “Happy.” You don’t care. You know it from the short advertisement on television; you pray silently that it’s enough of a barrier to keep you safe from the demon chasing you to its doors. 

You don’t know how you get there so fast. You have no idea how you throw the door open, terror in your wake and fear plastered over your face like a mask. A white-haired, one-eyed moth demon sees you come hurtling through the door; she wastes no time grabbing her angelic spear from beside her place of rest. She rushes to you. 

“Back off!” 

She holds the thing up, gripping it with a violent intensity that makes you back away from her. Why should you trust her either?

“Give me the human and I will,” the demon hisses. 

“Human?”

That second voice. 

Turning, you see the Princess of Hell rushing to where your altercation occurs. You become intensely aware of how tall everyone is at that moment. Without your demon form, you’re still a meager 5’4”. Everyone else seems to loom well around the 6-foot to 7-foot range. You back away from their threatening shadows, tears beginning to stream down your face. Charlie’s eyes meet yours and they widen. 

She turns to face the fish demon. 

“You leave right now, or I’ll make sure you disappear and are never seen again.” 

Her eyes flash, red consuming them and horns protruding from her head. The wind whips her long blonde hair and you back away. You don’t want to be caught in that crossfire. Your chest heaves. The moth demon stands attentively at her girlfriend’s side, the two of them intimidating enough to keep the demon at bay. He leaves, huffing and puffing. He makes it to the door, flipping you the bird and hurtling threats at you before slamming the door. 

Charlie and her friend approach you. You scoot yourself across the floor as fast as you possibly can, keeping screams bottled in your throat in the hopes of keeping some of your dignity intact. 

Just when you think it can’t get any worse, you hear a third voice. 

“Hey, toots, what’s going on?”

“We have a new guest, Angel.” 

“Vaggie, go keep him at bay while I help our new guest.” 

The moth demon nods while Charlie comes closer to you. She extends a gentle hand, concern plastered on her ghostly face. 

“Please, I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you. I have a room here for you to stay in and I can promise that freaks like that can’t hurt you here, understand?”

Your breathing comes in short, desperate gasps. She becomes aware of the mark on your arm. A deep, violent needle wound. A larger gauge jammed so deep into your skin. Where he drugged you. The last pain you felt before utter bliss. Then darkness. 

You see her eyes fall on it. 

“What happened to you? Why are you here?”

“Oh, Charlie!” 

This fourth voice sends chills down your spine. 

“Alastor, I thought you weren’t back from hunting for another few weeks!” 

“Ran out of prey,” he calls. His voice sounds intoxicating. You were a radio-head before you died; he sounded like old recordings from talk show hosts of the past. You loved old music, old talk shows, old anything. Vintage was your world. 

But the static in his voice makes you pause. You know this has to be the Radio Demon that fish demon spoke of. You hear the clacking of his boots make their way toward Charlie. You try your best to hide in the corner of the wall you’ve chosen to hide against. 

“What are you—well, hello!” 

Dark red eyes with brighter red pupils fall on you before you even have a chance to catch your breath. They glow with menacing, yet delighted intent. You clutch your arm to hide your wound—the ghost of it, anyway. 

“What’s your name, dear?”

You shake. 

“I… I can’t remember.” 

You really can’t. That’s the first bewildering thing that hits you. You were in such a frenzy when you died. 

“Well, if your death was particularly traumatic, that can happen,” Charlie starts.

“Nothing traumatic happened!” 

You screech it back, denial filling your veins. 

Alastor, ever-composed with a smile, has the audacity to laugh. You look at him with profound horror. He’s enjoying this. Watching you like this. Weak. Trapped. Evading the truth. 

“Come now, darling. We’re all friends, here! How did you die? Perhaps you can retrace your steps. Find out why you’re still a human of all things.” 

You frown and his smile widens.

“Smile!” 

Your frown widens in rebellious defiance. He leans down to you, pulling your hand from your arm. The gash is still there, glaring at everything that stares at it. His eyes included. Charlie moves forward to grab his arm. His hand comes flying up in a warning. 

“Don’t touch!” 

She sighs, looking at you with something like a mixed sense of sadness and empathy. But it was clear how the hierarchy worked here. Alastor was in charge. She wasn’t willing to cross paths with him, which made your bones rattle even more. 

“What happened here?”

Determination scrunches itself across your face. You don’t know this creature’s story. His red and black hair, his dark yellow fangs for teeth, and his claws have no bearing on your assessment of him. Right now, he was just a demon asking questions. He looms over you, though. Taller than Charlie. Huge. It makes you feel like a cockroach waiting to be stepped on. 

You swallow. 

“He… he didn’t have a name. Not a publicized one.” 

Alastor cocks his head, his smile fading a bit—becoming more… normal?

“Who, dear?”

You stop shaking, composing yourself. You move to lift yourself up and find his arms hitched beneath your own, lifting you up. He swings you up bridal-style in a theatrical flair and sets you on a chaise in the entryway, as though you were a patient ready for a round of hypnosis or therapy. He pulls away and for a moment, you have to steady yourself. 

“I… I was a fool. And if I’m here for the reason I think, then Charlie, you don’t want to give me a room.” 

Charlie frowns. 

“Why ever not?”

“Because I don’t want to go to Heaven if it’s against the rules to defend yourself.” 

Alastor raises an ever-more eager eyebrow, his grin growing wider again.

“From?”

You sigh. 

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, but this is the moment where the dead can speak. Since he robbed me of that. So I will. It’s a long story, so if you want to hear it, fine. Shut up and listen. If not, I can talk to you, Charlie, about where I can go to be safe where going to Heaven isn’t a goal.” 

From nowhere, and before Charlie can protest, Alastor procures two chairs to sit across from you. A cup of coffee appears in his hand and he looks positively chuffed at the thought of some stranger’s revealing storytime. 

“Well, go on!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, let me know what you think! I decided to post the prologue and chapter one on the same day so you all can go ahead and get a glimpse of the direction that this story will start out in. Stay tuned for more! (Or, at least let me know if you would like more!)


	3. The Dead Shall Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: 
> 
> This chapter contains details about Reader's death. If you aren't a fan of longer depictions of violence, please feel free to wait for the next update. It'll be along soon :3

_You were twenty-three. College was just in your rear-view mirror. You planned to become an English teacher for high schoolers. Set above your car radio was the phone dock; you set a gas station as your waypoint. You were starving, in need of a restroom, and tired. You needed to ask someone about local hotels._

_The minute you had a job offer, you jumped. The place was perfect; you had an apartment lined up to be rented. The salary was meager, but the area itself wasn’t expensive and you’d managed to pay off a lot of your loans in college. Not all of them. There would be payments. But you could manage._

_You’d been on the road for two days, unable to afford a plane ticket. You planned on living in Alabama. It was warm and, despite the misconceptions about it, you’d fallen in love during your interview with the big city of Birmingham. The school system would be a challenge, but you weren’t one to back down from a fight. Those kids needed hope. You were willing to bring it to them. You drove down from Pennsylvania, taking your time and seeing sights along your way. It wasn’t a glamorous trip, but you never got to leave your state before._

_You turn your blinker on, pulling into a gas station in Tennessee. You make your way into the store, eyeing sweets and chips and sodas as the perfect fuel to keep you going until you found somewhere to stay. This would be the last pit stop before you made the long-haul to Birmingham._

_You make eye contact with the cashier. He gives you a flirtatious smile. You return it. No harm, right?_

_Satisfied with your choices, you set your favorite candies on the counter. He begins to scan them._

_“Passing through?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Where ya headed?”_

_“Birmingham.”_

_“That’s a nice city.”  
_

_Any bravery he had fizzled out after that. He was a nice enough guy, but not your type. In any case, he was local. He had the information you needed._

_“Hey, where is a good place to stay around here? I need a break for the night.”_

_The guy’s smile returns, brightening at the chance to speak to you again._

_“Just down the road to the right, you’ll see a little grove of trees and a sign without a name on it anymore. This isn’t really an official town anymore. Just a few of us locals left. But Margaret’s Bed and Breakfast is a good place to stay. She lets anyone passing through stay the night. She has awesome biscuits and gravy in the morning, too. Complimentary.”_

_Your stomach growls audibly at the thought of such a delicacy. You and the cashier share a laugh._

_“Sounds like you need ‘em.”_

_“You’re telling me.”  
_

_You smile at him again, taking your bag of goods once your card clears._

_“Maybe you’ll stop by before you leave?”  
_

_You ponder it._

_“Maybe I will.”_

_You wink, turning on your heel and blushing at your sudden spur of confidence._

_“What’s your name?”_

_You hear yourself say it, but you can’t make out the memory. Cursing yourself, you keep pacing back through that dreadful night._

_In fact, you never would make it to Margaret’s Bed and Breakfast. You wouldn’t even leave the parking lot before you, too, would fall victim. Just like the rest._

~*~ 

You stop to catch a breath. Your heart is pounding like you’re living in a real-life horror movie. A quick glance around reminds you that, you kind of are. 

Alastor’s smile thins a bit. 

“Why’d you stop?” he presses.

You lower your head. 

“It’s hard for me to relive this. I should have checked the backseat of my car. I should have locked the damn thing in the first place.” 

Charlie frowns at you. 

“Why?” Her face is plastered with even more concern.

“Well, no one seemed to have the courteousness to tell me that at least thirty women went missing from that same gas station before me.” 

Charlie’s eyes widen. Alastor’s grin grows manic. 

“What? Wait, how did you figure that out?” Charlie sputters.

You smile. You don’t know how you do it, but you do. Alastor claps. 

“I saw the trophies.” 

“The what?” Charlie asks.

“Look, I don’t want to relive the rest right now, okay? I’ll just say this. There was a serial killer that hid himself in the back of my car. He held a gun to my head, knocked me out by bludgeoning me in the back of the head, and he tied me up in the trunk. A few hours later, I woke up to find myself in his cabin by the coast. And do you know how I know how many women it was?”

Charlie looks even paler than she already is, but she nods. 

“He cuts their heads off and mounts them on the wall. Like the big game you see in a fricken hunting shop or whatever. And do you know why I’m here, Charlie?”

She shakes her head. Alastor is shoving popcorn into his terrifying maw as though his appetite might never be satisfied. 

“Well, he used a type of drug. I’m not sure what. But somehow, my body didn’t metabolize it right away. While he left to get his ‘tools’ I broke free. When he got back, I stole a knife and ran for it. We made it to the coast. Finally, I got the courage, turned around, and I stabbed him exactly twenty-three times in the torso. Twenty-three for every year I lived. I thought I was home free. I started running again. My head went fuzzy and I realized… he’d given me too much. I felt it hit me like a train. And then it went dark. But see, I never really did anything else wrong. So do you know what that means, Charlie?”

You don’t let her continue. 

“I’m here because I had the audacity to murder my own killer.” 

You stand up with violent embarrassment staining your cheeks. 

“I wasn’t going to be mounted on some damn wall. If anyone mounts shit on the wall, it’s me. So, if you want me to go to Heaven, go ahead. Try. But it isn’t going to work because _I don’t want to go_.” 

  
You flip the bird toward the sky, right in the direction of that brighter planet you saw earlier. That must be it. Heaven. 

Alastor doesn’t seem as happy anymore. He wears his smile, but he seems… concerned?  


You ignore it. Charlie places a hand on your shoulder, finding the daring courage to speak to you in your current fit of rage. 

“I… I think you can still stay. I don’t want you out there like this.”

She gestures to you, your weakness still evident to everyone. 

“I agree. We wouldn’t want this precious little gem to be eaten alive, anyway, would we?”  


Alastor spoke again, this time his voice a welcome sound. You turn to him, smiling. 

“I assure you, I’m not delicious or nutritious.” You decide a small joke can't hurt.

He laughs. 

“I don’t know, darling. I could make quite a bowl of gumbo out of you. But, I do suppose you don’t look right for eating. It just… wouldn’t suit you.” 

He sneers at you and you step back, noticing for the first time the antlers between his ears. You feel your cheeks flushing with shame again. All those comments about hunting and mounting things on the wall. Had you offended him?

He didn’t seem to register if you had. 

“Come, I’ll show you the hotel.” 

Alastor extends a hand to you. Charlie seems apprehensive, but again, she’s not steering this ship anymore. 

“Let’s show you to your room first. I suppose you don’t have any belongings?”

You shake your head, looking straight down at the ground. You had nothing. No vinyl records. No radio. No car. No clothes beyond what you died in. 

“I… I don’t.” 

“Well, don’t worry! I can take you out later and help you get that sorted.” 

You look up at him, your smile disappearing. He seems annoyed by this; he stretches your face back into a smile with his claws before you can protest. 

“I… I don’t… you don’t….” 

“Oh but why not? You need someone to help you. As much as Charlie and Vaggie are great protectors, they can’t keep you safe on the streets. _I_ can.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read and interacted with this story so far! I've never written a fanfiction before so this is rather fun for me. I can't promise that updates will always be this regular, but I'm aiming to achieve regular updates (though not on a set schedule like every Friday or Monday or something). Grad school is hard ;-; BUT this is a great outlet for me and I appreciate anyone who's enjoying this along with me.


	4. Rules

Your room number had been scratched from the door, though Alastor insisted the plaque would be replaced and emblazoned with the number 707. You wondered for a moment if it was possible for a hotel to have seven-hundred-seven rooms. 

_Of course it is, you dolt._

You did your best to hide your amazement at the towering ceilings that threatened to swallow you up from overhead in the lobby; when you got to the smaller hallways and corridors that eventually snaked their way to your room, you were breaking out into a sweat, your body threatening to shudder at the thought of getting lost in such a large place. 

To appease Alastor, you faked a smirk the whole time. Your new poker face around him, you decided. You did your best to hide the occasional glances you made in his direction to try and get a read off him. He never did stop smiling, though it would widen and fall in response to various comments or questions he would bounce in your direction. You never seemed to catch the ball quite fast enough; he never really let you answer. 

You decided to let him ramble on and tell you the random dad joke or two that always seemed to bubble to the surface to shatter the awkward silence that would drape between you if the conversation was left up to you. Oddly enough, you were grateful for his insistent chattering. All the while, his hand gripped yours with a ferocity that made his quiet threat clear. 

_You can’t escape me._

You swallow, trying harder than ever to keep the smile plastered to your face as he finishes giving you the details about when meals were served, what to expect about your stay, and the ground rules given your… _human_ state. 

“You are, under no circumstances, to leave this room without an approved escort. As of now, the only approved escorts you have are myself, Charlie, and Vaggie. I will tell you now, _I do not tolerate disobedience_.” 

His voice became distorted, his eyes swirling red dials of terror that almost wiped your poker face clean off in favor of sheer terror. 

“I-I understand.” 

“Wonderful! Wouldn’t want our new, curious little guest to end up erased on her first day! So soon after the extermination, too.” 

Alastor sighs, his smile full of some secret, sick fascination at the thought of whatever that extermination thing was. 

“What is—?”

“Sorry, darling. Questions will have to wait until later. I’ve got a lot of paperwork to do and I have to ensure that our newest cooks are putting together dishes worthy of our guests.” 

He grits his teeth at that last statement. 

“Too many cooks in the kitchen, huh?” 

He chuckles. 

“You could say that. Now, by your phone you’ll find the extensions to contact either of your escorts. I’ll have one of us come up and bring you down for dinner; Niffty should be by later to take your measurements for new clothes and give you some new ones.” 

He snapped his fingers. 

“In the meantime, take these. Leave your current… _outfit_ … out for Niffty and she’ll make sure they are cleaned for you. All of your toiletries should already be ready for you.”

He shoved neatly folded jeans, a t-shirt, and _undergarments_ into your hands. You were beet red when you realized that they were probably your exact measurements. Keeping your grin half-cocked, you looked up at him. 

“Th-thank you. I won’t keep you any longer. I appreciate you bringing me to my room and giving me clothes even though I’m not… an ideal candidate to stay here.” 

Alastor waved his clawed hands. You didn’t get the look at them that you wanted since he moved so fast. 

“Nonsense, my dear. It was a pleasure. I look forward to getting to know you more! Now, go freshen up. I can’t imagine having all that blood on you being too pleasant.” 

With a turn of his heel, he marches off in the opposite direction. You whirl about and try not to make it sound too much like you were slamming the door behind him. You lock every bolt that sits behind the door in an attempt to tell the world you _weren’t_ going anywhere. You don’t want to piss off Alastor—not after seeing him warp into that terrifying creature that was a far cry from the smiling being that cracked and laughed at his own jokes. 

To your terror, the clothing in your hands were, indeed, to your exact measurements. 

“So why have Niffty…?”

You shake your head, releasing the smile from your face. Your cheeks ache from having held them aloft for so long. You don’t recall ever smiling that much even when you were alive. 

You take your time to remove the clothing from your body, the blood in the shirt and pants now sticking to your skin. You hold back a gag. You’re not sure why you’re doing your best to keep your composure in a moment like this. Necessity? Fear? 

_How… how did I end up like this?_

It was a rhetorical question. Of course you _know_ how you got blood on yourself. But how you ended up in Hell and at the mercy of creatures that tower over you and can snap you out of existence with a wink and a smile? 

And what did Alastor mean by _erased_? 

You shiver, making your way to the bathroom. You’re relieved to find it similar to something akin to a hotel bathroom back on Earth. It’s pretty barren; you wonder if you’re allowed to decorate it. The room as a whole could use some personalization. A standard four post bed and a side table with a white phone and bland-looking lamp were all you had taken note of; you stand in the shower and let the water rush over you. 

_I guess there is water in Hell. How many preachers would be upset to know they lied about that little fact?  
_

You smile again; your cheeks aren’t too happy with you about that as they wince and grimace in pain from having been forced to stay in that pose for what felt like hours while you walked through the halls with Alastor. But you didn’t care. You started to feel… _normal_. If that was even possible. 

Before you know it, you’re getting out of the shower and toweling off. You slip your new clothes on and take note of yourself in the mirror. Your (e/c) eyes look the same. Your (h/c) is original to itself from before you died. Your skin is paler—more sickly. But otherwise, you look fine. Except, in Hell, that _isn’t_ fine. It’s the reason you’re now a prisoner at a hotel for rehabilitation. And, of course, you don’t even _want_ to be rehabilitated. 

You stroll back out into your room. Before you can start to get acquainted with your new furniture or even drop yourself dramatically into the stark red comforter—the only bright thin in the room—as a means of calming yourself, you hear a knock. 

“Hello? Miss? Alastor wanted me to come by and get your measurements. He said you might have some dirty clothes, too?” 

You make hesitant strides to the door; you carefully undo the latches and find yourself looking _down_ at a creature smaller than you. One large, yellow-orange orb stares up at you from possibly the cutest face you’ve ever seen. Her dark pink bob frames her face and her poodle skirt screams 50’s. 

“Are you Niffty?”

“Yes, ma’am!” 

She gives you a dramatic salute. 

You chuckle at her childlike mannerisms and the clear excitement emblazoned on her face. She was more than an open book. She was like an action movie on steroids. 

In a pink and yellow blur, she rushes past you to grab the dirty clothes you left strewn about the floor. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I hadn’t gotten the chance to pick those up yet. I was just glad to—”

“Not to worry, Miss! Alastor told me all about the blood. I wouldn’t want to be in that for very long either. Now, hold still while I measure you!”

You would hardly call what happened measuring. All you saw was the pink and yellow blur fluttering around you with a hot pink strand of a measuring tape. In a blink, she was folding up your dirty clothes and holding a notebook with your measurements. 

“You have a lovely figure! I bet men loved you up on Earth!” 

You laugh. 

“Not really. I never really gave them the time of day,” you smirk. 

It was true. You didn’t have an interest in dating when you were alive. You were focused on your goals and nothing but. Why let love get in the way? 

“Well that’s a shame!” 

With an excited squeak, she practically flies out the door. 

“I’ll see you later, Miss! Oh! I never caught your name!” 

You pause. 

“Don’t have one. Maybe you can help me think of one later?”

She giggles. 

“I’ll come up with a list!” 

And with that, she disappears. 

Once again, you shut the door; finally, the comforter gets what’s coming to it. You fling yourself onto the bed. It doesn’t creak beneath your weight and you’re relieved that it’s as comfortable as anything else you’d ever slept on. Maybe even more-so. You lift your head from the comforter and find a small alarm clock glaring at you, the red numbers matching the rest of the surroundings in Hell. 

_Are there any other colors besides red here?_

You groan. It was another two hours before dinner; you literally have _nothing_ to do. You don’t dare dial any extensions. These people were already way too nice to you. Instead, you sink back into your covers and let yourself doze. 

_This’ll pass the time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so overwhelmed by the response I've gotten so far! Thank you everyone :) 
> 
> I find this writing very cathartic, so I've been writing this morning and decided to upload another chapter. Once again, feedback is appreciated!


	5. Dinner and Foolishness

You awake to hear a soft rapping at the door. You blink, taking a moment to realize where you are again. 

_Hell._

Luckily, you’re not the type to get too lost when you’ve been asleep for a while. Your brain doesn’t try to sugarcoat things for you. You know, unfortunately, that you’re still stuck in this strange plight of yours. Your hands remain stuck in a very human shape upon a quick examination. 

You groan. 

Slipping off the bed, you come towards the door. It occurs to you that you don’t have any other shoes beyond the ones you had when you came to Hell. 

_Alastor must’ve forgotten that people need those._

You stifle a giggle. 

“Hey, hon, you alright?”

You open the door to find the moth demon standing before you. Vaggie. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you rub your eyes. “Sorry, I fell asleep. I guess I was more tired than I thought from all the commotion earlier.” 

She offers you a small smile. 

“Thanks for saving my skin, by the way. You didn’t even know me; I appreciate you stepping in like you did. I hope we can become good friends for as long as Charlie lets me stay here.” 

She extends a hand and places it loosely on your shoulder. 

“The one thing I know about my girlfriend is that she’s the last person to be hard on people or to judge them. You? She told me about what happened to you. She’s horribly upset by it and understands why you would be skeptical of going to Heaven. But she remains hopeful that there’s something we can do to fix what happened. And even if we can’t, I know she’ll always give you a place to stay as long as she possibly can. And of course we can be friends. I’d like that. Don’t get many of those down here.”

You smile, hiding the sadness that’s begun to creep along your face. 

“I take it you came here to get me for dinner?”

“I did. Alastor requests that you eat in the kitchen, though. We’ve got quite a few residents; not all of them would be so kind if they found a human dining with them. Charlie and I are going to eat in there with you, though. I know he’s been here a while now, but I still don’t trust him. I know he helped you when you first got here but, please, keep yourself safe, hon. Don’t trust him. And _don’t_ make any deals with him.” 

“Deals?”

“I’ll explain the details while we go. At least what I know of them, anyway.” 

You dip your head, following along behind her while she explains the plight of the poor fools that had previously fallen victim to the Radio Demon’s charms. The way he manipulated people to climb to power. To become an Overlord. 

Before you reach the end of the hall, you stop Vaggie for a moment, paling at the stories she’s just told you. 

_That smiling creature is responsible for so much terror?_

You blink, trying to ignore the memory of that terrifying, warped form he took on to keep you from getting ideas about leaving your room. 

“What’s an Overlord, Vaggie?”

She sighs. 

“I’ll have to debrief you about that later. Long story short: he’s kind of like a minor ruler here. He owns territories. Hangs out with the big whigs or whatever. And the only way you get to that status here is if you’re violent and extraordinarily powerful. He’s both.” 

You shudder. 

“Thanks for filling me in. No wonder he gave me the creeps when I first met him.” 

She chuckles.

“Yeah, me too. Still does. Anyways, I hope you like (favorite food). He made it especially for you. One thing I’ve learned is not to question him about his cooking or what he chooses. He gets pissed off about it, believe it or not.” 

You nod. 

“He did seem rather protective of the kitchen earlier. Luckily, that happens to be one of my favorites, so I’m sure I’ll enjoy it. Is he a good cook?”

“Unfortunately, I have to give him credit there. He might just be the best cook here in Hell.” 

Your stomach growls in response and you both share a laugh. 

You take note of the pink “x” that sits atop a patch that covers her eye. You know better than to ask, but curiosity overwhelms you. You hope that, once you know everyone better, she’ll tell you what happened to it. You didn’t like the idea of your friends being in pain or suffering. 

_This is hell, you dork, you can’t really help that._

You suppress the need to shrug at yourself as she leads you back out into the treacherously large lobby. 

It’s blissfully quiet. Everything is neatly arranged; the only bright or interesting thing is the concierge’s desk. It looks more like a bar, adorned with the skulls of unnaturally large deer whose eyes glow green. Behind it sits what looks like an extraordinarily large cat with… _wings?_ They’re covered in card symbols. Spades. Jacks. Hearts. Clubs. They form a rather beautiful pattern along the scarlet and dark gray striping on those strange wings. 

Without thinking, you leave Vaggie’s side to go introduce yourself. She says nothing but trails after you. 

“Hi, I’d tell you my name but I don’t really know it.” You rub at your neck, realizing how awkward you sound. 

“Fantastic, kid. Go away.” 

You’re a bit taken aback by how gruff this demon sounds. But you’re unphased. You’re overwhelmed by the stench of alcohol; you take note of the bottle of booze gripped firmly in his claws and you put two and two together. 

_It’s no mystery why he’s here. But why would someone go to Hell because they have an addiction? That’s a mental illness… doesn’t he deserve healing?_

You grimace. 

“Do you play cards?”

At this, he stiffens and turns to you. His eyes match his yellow teeth—similar to Alastor’s, though not nearly as sharp. A long, swishing tail becomes visible at the mention of a game. 

“What, you think so just ‘cause I got these wings?”

You laugh. 

“I mean, yeah? I’m not a dumbass. Why else would your demon form literally incorporate cards into them if they weren’t important to you?”

He grunts. 

“I’m right, I suppose. Anyway, I was just gonna ask if maybe later you could teach me to play. If Alastor lets me come down into the lobby for such a purpose.” 

He raises a bright, furry, red eyebrow that almost makes you laugh upon realizing just how bizarre they look. 

“You’re letting that clown decide if you can come down and play cards or not?”

You shrug. 

“Part of the rules of being here for me, I guess.” 

He slaps a hand to his face. 

“I ain’t promising anything. Not if you’re gonna be that clown’s personal pushover.” 

Your cheeks flush. Before you can say anything else, Vaggie grabs at your shoulders and pulls you back on your journey to the kitchen. 

“Don’t take it too personally, hon. He’s just… _like_ that. All he does is drink booze and offend people.” 

You ball your fist up and smack it into your other open hand. 

“He can’t scare me away. I _will_ get him to teach me to play cards.” 

“Why are you so intent upon doing that?”

“Because. Just… because.” 

You didn’t put into words the way you hated how people with addictions became ostracized wherever they went. The life of loneliness they tried to hide. 

_How do they know he’s not grieving something? That he doesn’t have some other problems that he’s just not sharing?_

You quiet this bubbling thoughts when you and Vaggie reach the kitchen. She doesn’t press you anymore on the cards subject; you’re grateful. At the moment, your head is spinning from hunger. You need to focus on that before you get yourself into any more trouble. 

When the doors swing open, you’re greeted by a gleaming, white kitchen. It’s pristine. A large, stainless steel refrigerator gleams in the light, not a scratch to be found. In the center of the room, a light, sandy island sits with a few spices neatly arranged on a spinning spice rack in the center. 

If the light through the window weren’t red, it would be something out of a kitchen catalogue. It’s beautifully decorated, but simple. You’re tempted to open the cabinets; you’re sure you’ll find plenty of foods organized by type, color, flavor… it all just screams _clean_. 

At the far end of the kitchen, a smaller dining room table has been arranged. Vaggie walks over and takes a seat next to Charlie; the only empty seat is one that is right next to _him_. He smiles at you playfully, waving with far too much excitement for you to come take a seat. 

Your feet find themselves almost being forced to come over and plop yourself down to the same entity that Vaggie had just described as a bloodthirsty, all-powerful psychopath. But your poker face found itself back in place. You didn’t want him forcing it on, anyway. Your small smile is met with an even wider one by the entity in question. 

“I’ve made (favorite food); I hope you’ll find it to your liking!” 

“Well, it smells delectable so I’m sure I will!” 

You know your table manners well, so you wait for plates to be distributed by none other than Niffty, who looks positively eager to talk your ear off if given the chance. You help pass around the various bowls and plates so everyone can have a chance at giving themselves a portion of all the lovely food Alastor made. Once everyone has a fair share, you wait for everyone to get situated and then begin to eat. 

Alastor raises an eyebrow, impressed by your knowledge of etiquette. 

“Who taught you your table manners?”

“I worked for a few business firms as an intern before I learned I wanted to become a teacher. With all the events that they hosted, you catch on quick if you want to keep in the good graces of the people you’re trying to convince you’re worth paying.” 

You dab at your mouth with a napkin; you’ve already placed a second in your lap and you’re careful to keep your elbows off the table. These practices were mechanical to you at this point. You weren’t kidding about the events you’d been to. Food at every one of them; it was easy to see why caricatures of business people always had them looking fat. You gained about ten pounds yourself while doing all those odd jobs for them. 

“I see. Well, I’m glad to know someone understands how the dinner table should work.” 

He grins at you with something like genuine approval and you match it, doing your best to keep yourself composed. 

When you’ve all finished your food, you offer to help clean dishes with Niffty. Alastor claps at this, once again blown away by your personality. Before you know it, he’s helping the both of you as well. Charlie and Vaggie reluctantly leave you behind while you scrub at the plates and help load them into the dishwasher. You make sure to be every more wary now that you’re alone with Alastor. Niffty didn’t seem like much protection; in fact, she acts like Alastor’s daughter with the way she tugs at his coat, smiles up at him, immediately rushes to help him with whatever he’s doing. 

It’s kind of cute watching them work together. But you know better than to stare too long and grab unwanted attention. 

When the work is finished, he invites you to grab a seat again. 

Curious, you go along with it and join him back and the dining room table. 

“Well, darling, I’m glad you enjoyed your meal.” 

“It was delicious.” 

“Now, earlier you wanted to ask me some questions; I was, unfortunately, busy at the time. Are there any pressing questions you’d like to get out of the way now?” 

You’re a bit stunned—you weren’t expecting him to willingly just sit down and offer you something like this. Without trying to get you to strike a deal, no less. But you don’t question it anymore than that. 

“Well, I guess I’m just not sure about how any of this works. Is it normal for someone to arrive in Hell without their demon form?”

“Yes, however, if it doesn’t show up within the next few days, then we may have a minor problem on our hands. But, judging your form now as opposed to when you first arrived today, I can already tell there have been some minor changes. It won’t be long before you know what type of demon you are.” 

You blink, unsure of what he’s talking about, but you leave it for the moment. 

“Okay, that’s good… I guess… uhm, what’s an extermination?”

Alastor laughs at this one. 

“That has to do with why the hotel exists, my sweet. You see, Hell is plagued with overpopulation. So, every year, angels descend on Hell and cull the population. Demons can’t be killed save by the blade of an angel. Once they get hit with something of that caliber, they’re erased. They descend into darkness; they’re no more.” 

He says it with so little effort, as though it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. You, on the other hand, lose your poker face. He doesn’t seem bothered by it this time, though. 

“Okay, so, I take it the princess is trying to get people into Heaven so we can solve the overpopulation problem?”

He snaps his fingers. 

“You’re a bright one. Yes!” 

“And you believe in this cause?”

A laugh track plays; you look around wondering where it’s coming from before blushing. It’s coming from _him_. 

_Duh, stupid._

He’s clearly amused, catching on to why you were looking around in that moment. 

“No, I do not. I’m merely here for entertainment purposes. I like watching people fail to reach their goals—I like watching them stumble and trip on the path to redemption. There’s a reason people end up here; they had a chance while living, so why on Earth would they change now? And why would Heaven even take them now when their sins are now myriad compared to what they were before they died?”

You nearly choke. 

_He likes watching people fail? And why does his point of view make so much… sense?_

_“_ Okay, I think that’s all my questions for now. Oh-wait-am I allowed to get things to decorate my room? How does one get a job down here to pay for things, anyway?”

“You don’t have to pay for anything because you’re on the hotel’s tab.” 

“But I’m not seeking—”

“Never you mind that, dear. You’re here, you’re one of us, and I will take you out tomorrow for clothing now that we have your measurements; if you see a few things you’d like for your room,I’ll get them for you.” 

“But I—”

His grin becomes feral and you shut your trap. Clearly there would be no arguing here. 

“Fair enough.” 

_Not fair, but whatever._

You hate getting gifts, being helped without having to work for something yourself… it feels _gross._

But you know that arguing with Alastor is a losing battle. He seems pleased that you’ve caught on to that so soon. 

“Unfortunately, once again, I must cut this conversation short. There are other people who’ve finished dining and I must clean up after them.” 

“Why not let me help you?”

You blurt out the offer before you can stop yourself. 

“That would be wonderful! I’ll go collect the plates. I don’t want you leaving the kitchen in your current state. But once I’m back we can snap to it!” 

In a blink, he’s left the room. 

You groan. 

_Why do I offer to help him so easily? Am I stupid?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy!


	6. Uncertainty

A few hours passed; you and Alastor successfully managed to scrub every plate clean. Just as you suspected, the orderliness of the kitchen was something from Alastor’s own set of standards. He expected you to follow his orders to the letter; any time you put something remotely out of place, he would taunt and tease you mercilessly until you put it in the proper alignment. 

It’s late now; you yearn for your room and the comfortable bed you dozed off on earlier. He can see the exhaustion in your eyes as he puts away the last plate. With a snap of his fingers, the cabinets shut and a few stray items fly to their place.

You blink. 

“Wait—were you able to do that with all the dishes? Did we just wash them for nothing?”

He chuckles, his eyes laced with mischievous venom—more-so than usual, which you didn’t even think was possible before this moment. 

“You made me endure all that teasing for nothing?”

“Now wait just a moment, I wanted you to understand the workings of this kitchen. It’s important for everyone to know how I expect things to be put back, especially if this is the only room they’re currently allowed to eat in.” 

His eyes narrow and you, sadly, understand what he means. More rules. More restrictions. 

_More things to worry about._

You drop your smile and bury your face in your hands. 

“When will this end?”

“When will what end, darling?”

You groan, rubbing your temples and refusing to look up at him. 

“I just want things to be… _normal_. I don’t understand how lashing out at a serial killer lands you in Hell of all places. And I don’t understand why I had to show up looking like _this._ Did you have to put up with this when you first got here?”

He laughs. You already know the answer before he spits it out. 

“No. I got here and immediately set to work on establishing a… _name_ …for myself.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I see you have no problem with confidence.” 

His eyes follow you as you take a seat at the dining room table once more. You need something to prop you up other than your legs. They’re ready to cave out from underneath you. 

He comes to sit beside you, his eyes glinting with curiosity; you wonder how you’re able to pick up on his emotions so easily despite the smile that constantly plasters itself on his face. You wonder if other people are able to do that so easily. He cocks his head to the side, examining you like a science project rather than another person. 

“You’ve changed a bit even in the few moments we’ve been working together.” 

“Few moments?”

You spit this retort back at him a little less playfully than you intended, but he chooses to take it as a joke, nonetheless. You’re no threat to him. You’re just a wayward soul with an attitude that could be squished in a second. 

“Yes.” 

A hand mirror appears before you. Your eyes widen in shock at the sight of yourself. Your teeth are beginning to grow sharp. Your eyes are the same (e/c) but they’ve taken on an ethereal glow. Not much else has changed, but to you, it’s startling. Your lip trembles; you turn your face away so he can’t see. But he already knows. 

He scoots beside you, ever the person to ignore personal space, and loops an arm around your shoulders. To your surprise, he runs a claw through your hair and smiles a bit more softly. 

“There, there. It’ll be alright. It’s a necessary thing. You can’t be running around in fear of being erased all the time.” 

You sniff. 

“I thought you had to be stabbed with an angel’s blade to be erased.” 

“And you don’t think demons haven’t gotten smart enough to steal them and use them? And besides, there are worse things besides being erased. I’m only telling you this to… _protect_ you.” 

You don’t trust him enough to bury yourself in his chest, though a part of you longs to. You want so desperately to have someone crush you in their embrace and sweep you all away from this. It’s an unsettling feeling. You’ve always been painfully independent. You’ve never _needed_ anyone. 

So you shove the thought away and accept the arm around your shoulder instead, choosing not to push it off as you ordinarily would. 

“Why do you want to protect me, anyway?”

Somewhere in the distance, that laugh track plays again. 

“Oh, darling, I’m not even sure. You’re just so… _entertaining_.” 

You can’t bear to look at him. You don’t want to know what he looks like in this moment. Who gets that kind of sick fascination from someone’s suffering? What kind of freak were you sitting next to right now? Vaggie’s description of him hardly did him justice. 

_He’s a monster._

“Well, my dear,” he stands, “I think it’s time I return you to your room. It’s rather late and we wouldn’t want to be late for your shopping spree tomorrow! Niffty is rather excited to go with us.” 

Before you know it, he’s grabbed your hands and in a _snap_ you’re standing outside your door. True to his promise, your door’s placard has been replaced. You stifle the urge to shake at the rushing feeling in your ears and mind from having been rushed from one place to another so fast. 

You look up at him and see that his smile is larger than ever. 

“I expect you to be up no later than seven. I’ll escort you down to breakfast and Niffty and I will take you out after. If you sleep in, _I’ll_ be sure to come in and wake you.” 

He leans in and whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

“I don’t think you’d want that.” 

In a blink, he disappears again, leaving you standing wide-eyed and terrified in the doorway. You rush into your room and slam the door behind you, locking every lock again. 

_As if that would keep him out._

You settle into your bed, trying your best to block out the noise of his laughter and the sight of his menacing stares playing over and over in your mind. But they just won’t go away. After a while, you get up and set your alarm clock. You realize you still don’t have pajamas, but you’ll be damned before you sleep in your underwear or worse… _nude_. 

So you stay above your comforter in your new clothes. Your ratty old shoes are sitting in a corner. Clean, might you add. 

_I guess Niffty already cleaned my clothes._

You get up and cross to the dresser and find them neatly folded inside. 

“Guess I know what I’m wearing tomorrow,” you mutter. 

Without another word to yourself or anyone else, you’re back in the bed, mildly satisfied knowing that, at least, your clothes are clean and your alarm is set. Before you know it, you’re fast asleep. And that’s when the trouble starts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how short this one is; the next chapter will be much longer. I try to have a few chapters in a cache ready to go so updates don't get lagged even when I go a bit without writing. I have an exam this week, though, so no guarantees on the daily updates I've been maintaining! 
> 
> That being said, boy is this fun to write! Stay tuned!


	7. Transform

_You wake up, sand threading through your fingers. Your skin aches; it’s begun to tinge with a nasty looking green. Your bones have become brittle; the smell of rot and decay taint the air._

_You sit up, eyes focusing in on the world around you. You’re back on the shoreline. It’s been days. No one has found you yet._

_You look across from you and, to your horror, your killer is getting up, too. You grip the knife in your hand, the blood stains from the first time you stabbed him now a dark, inky black; it was spotted along the metal that winked in the night, having faded from sitting out in the elements._

_“Stay back,” you hiss._

_His eyes are unfocused; it’s as if, to him, you aren’t there. He gets up, his limbs snapping and his skin beginning to slough off. The two of you look like zombies from a pathetic horror movie. He begins to move toward you._

_“Stay BACK!”_

_You say it with far more urgency and terror than the venom you wished to spit in his direction._

_He still doesn’t seem to hear you. For the first time, you register what he looks like. Middle-aged. Scruffy. Dark eyes that are like the night. His skin, though tinged with green now, is pale from lack of sunlight. He’s slightly heavyset and his hands are calloused from what one would assume hard work._

_Though, you suppose it was hard work murdering all those girls._

_He’s only a few yards from you now._

_“Do I run?” you whisper to yourself._

_His jaw cracks; darkness spills from it. His eyes slowly start to stretch wide. The blackness glows red; the pupils turn to dials. Antlers sprout from the killers head._

_“No, darling. You die.”_

You shoot up in your bed; it’s at least an hour before your alarm is set to go off. Your heart thuds in its chest and you grasp hold of your dream, making sure it doesn’t escape you. 

_What the heck?_

You decide it’s probably best to shower off; the sweaty mess you were wasn’t going to look very becoming for your first day out in the streets of Hell. 

_Like anyone cares._

When you step into the bathroom and find yourself still trying to collect your thoughts and understand your dream, you turn to look in the mirror and stifle your mouth before you screech. 

Your teeth are even _sharper_ than the night previous. Your eyes are permanently luminescent; their pupils are slits now. Your skin has become much more gray, like Vaggie’s or Alastor’s. Gray and pale like Death. Your hair’s (h/c) has been replaced with a bright, vibrant, honey gold with amber and brunette and red all glinting through as the light runs over them. It reminds you of the fall. Of… 

_A doe_. 

A very vibrant doe, but the ears sprouting on your head are _just_ like Alastor’s. And the tail protruding from your ass is a pretty good clue, too. It also matches your ears. Your eyes widen when you realize something else. 

Two little antlers have begun to sprout from your head. 

“But only… but only male deer can have those?!” 

Your mind is spinning; you want to sob. You’re just short of doing so. Shaking, you step into the shower and examine your body. Your skin is still soft—human-like. It’s not like all of you is covered in the fur like protrusions sticking up from your head. Your tail is the only thing that seems out of place. 

To your relief, your feet still have toes and you seem to have retained most of your human stature. You’re taller now, though. You’re not _that_ much taller, but you’ve at least got that going for you. 

Your antlers, as you reach up for them, feel incredibly small. They’re nothing to worry about, except, you’re a _doe._ Well, a doe demon. 

_Is there a proper name for what I am? Does Alastor know? And why do I have antlers? I’m not a buck!_

You find that you’re more confused than ever as you rinse off, your dream nearly forgotten. You half expected your dreams to be filled with some remnant of Alastor. He scared the shit out of you. 

You pace around your room, desperate to get out. His rules echo in your head. 

_But wasn’t that because I was still a human?_

Your heart thumps. 

_Still, I don’t want to make Alastor, of all people, angry._

Your hand reaches for the phone. You don’t want to call him. No. You’ll see him in a little less than an hour. 

Realizing you’re still in a towel, you ground yourself back in reality. You throw on some clothes and then you reach for the phone again, dialing Vaggie’s extension. 

When the phone picks up, you’re delighted to hear her voice. It’s groggy; you realize you’ve probably awakened her far earlier than she’d like to be. 

“I’m so sorry if I woke you up. I… I’ve had a bit of a transformation occur and I’m terrified of what Alastor is going to think. He’s supposed to take me shopping this morning; also, there’s a particular feature I have that is freaking me out a bit. What do I do?”

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. 

“I’m on my way. I’ll bring Charlie with me. No worries.” 

Despite sounding tired, her voice took on a tone of urgency that reassured you that you made the right call. You worried that if you kept pacing as you were now that you’d wear holes in the floor. You stopped to try and catch your breath. 

You laugh at the thought that Niffty’s measurements are all wrong now. You wonder if that will postpone your shopping trip. You wished, for a moment, that Niffty were here. You could tell her that now and hide in your room a little while longer before Alastor got a look at what you’d become in the night. Those flashing nightmares of the swirling dials and your murderer getting up from the sand weren’t going away anytime soon. 

To your frustration, your name still evades you as well. All these thoughts and more are almost ready to bowl you over when you hear Vaggie knock. 

You open the door and both girls on the other side drop their jaws in utter shock. 

“Uh…” 

“Yeah.” 

That’s all you can think to reply with. Before you know it, you spot a yellow and pink blur in the hallway hacking at dust spots with a feather duster.

_Now’s my chance._

“Hey, Niffty?” 

Charlie and Vaggie turn back to her with you. 

“My measurements are a bit off now. My transformation occurred while I was asleep. You might want to tell Alastor our shopping trip needs to be postponed until—”

“Nonsense!”

She rushes over to you, her measuring tape a blur once more; with a snap, she’s back in front of you with a notebook with new numbers scratched inside. 

“You look so pretty! But… why do you have antlers?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” 

“They’re kinda different looking. I wonder what kind of deer you’re supposed to mimic. I bet Alastor will know! I’ll go ask him!” 

“Wait, Niffty!” 

Before you can get another word in, she’s gone. 

Vaggie shakes her head.

“You know she works for him, right? Like, she’s not a hotel employee, technically. She only cleans here because that’s what he brought her here to do.” 

Charlie nods, clearly a brighter morning person than her girlfriend. 

You groan. 

“Of course. Now he’ll know even sooner than I wanted.” 

You motion for them to come in. You realize that you’re still shorter than Charlie; you’re about Vaggie’s height, making things far less awkward between you and them. You’re not looking up at them like they’re skyscrapers anymore. Instead, you feel like you’re on far more equal playing ground. 

“So, why is he here at the hotel if he doesn’t believe in its mission?”

“He… he likes the entertainment of watching people fail.” 

Vaggie seems bitter at stating this; only Charlie’s arms are enough to get a smile to come back to her face. They’re polar opposites, but adorable together. You can’t help but smile. 

“He kind of runs the place now. When we started this… it was supposed to be _my_ project. And it still is. It’s just… with the bad publicity and the pushback from my dad, it was only natural that Alastor would take over. I just didn’t see it at the time. The mission is still the same but… I dunno. I just prefer to think positive. He’ll come around! I still have some clout around here.”

Vaggie sighs. 

“Not as much as you used to.” 

“You used to be his boss?”

Charlie shrugs. 

“Sort of. More like business partner. Now I’m like the CEO and he’s a really rich stockholder who pulls the strings and gets to decide the real direction the business takes. He never outright threatens me or Vaggie and I don’t think he ever would unless we really pissed him off. But he’s made it clear that he’s the one in charge now; I’m just not one to break into a fight over it as long as he’s still helping us.” 

Your eyes almost bug out in shock. 

_So that explains the weird dynamic with them when I first arrived. I wonder when that power shift took place. Was it all at once? Was it a slow thing?_

“So he really is keeping the ruse of rehabilitation for entertainment.” 

They nod in unison. 

“Okayyy… so, what happens now that I’m transformed?”

Charlie holds out her hands as though to stop you from going any further. 

“You’re not fully transformed until you figure out what your powers are. They might be great. They might be mundane. But, I do have to say I’m really excited to see your demon form itself has shown up. That doesn’t mean you’re not at risk, still.” 

“Powers?”

Charlie nods. 

“Every demon has a power unique to them. Like Alastor and the radios and voodoo powers he has. I… I have powers. I just don’t particularly like to use them. Fire, brimstone, some other things that I don’t dare bother with. Vaggie is skilled with procuring weapons from thin air.” 

As if on cue, the angelic spear she had when you first met here was back in her hand. 

“Okay, so, how do I know when they show up?”

“You just will. Just be careful and watchful of everything around you. I’m gonna have to back up Alastor’s rules on this one. You’ll still need escorts and I still don’t want you roaming around or doing anything to put yourself in danger.” 

You cross your arms, prepared to argue and ask more questions but, unfortunately, Niffty’s message was received much faster than you would have ever hoped. 

The door bursts open. 

“Well, Hel-LO!” 

Alastor freezes upon seeing you. His smile gets wider, but his eyes scream surprise and confusion. You clutch at your chest as though he might have come across you in the nude. 

“Alastor! Do you mind giving her some privacy?”

Charlie is the one to speak up; you stare at her in surprise. There was a bit of authority in that tone of hers. Alastor dismisses it, choosing to rush forward and size you up. 

“I’d say the early bird gets the worm, but that would be a misclassification, doe-n’t you think?” 

He laughs at his own joke and you slap your face a bit harder than you mean with your hand. 

“You need to be mindful of those claws, my dear. You might tear your face off.” 

His laugh is more like a bark at this statement and you stifle the urge to throttle him. 

“I was going to ask Charlie and Vaggie about what type of demon this would be? Like, in official terms? And why the hell I have antlers when I’m, ya know, female?”

He eyes you up and down as though you’re little more than a toy to him. You squint. 

“Caribou.” 

“Say what?’  


“If you slap a bright red nose on that face of yours, you could pull a sleigh, darling!” 

Your eyes widen. 

“You’re saying—”

“Female caribou have antlers! They’re a bit different from what you see on a white-tail deer or a mule deer. Like my antlers are fashioned after that of an elk!” 

“But what do caribou have to do with reindeer?”

Alastor chuckles. 

“They are reindeer!” 

Even Charlie and Vaggie giggle a little bit. Your face flushes red. You want to be anywhere but in this godforsaken hotel room in Hell and back in the land of the living. You’d take on that serial killer twenty times over to get out of this. 

“And your proper terminology, dear, would be _wendigo_.” 

  
“A what?”

“Wendigo! Did you not hear me the first time?”

He taps his mic. 

“I swear, you say you’re working but it seems no one can hear me!” 

To your terror, the mic responds. 

“It’s their ears, sir, not me! I hear you just fine!” 

The light in the microphone’s eye dims a bit as it finishes its last sentence. 

“What’s a wendigo, you dork? That’s what I meant!” 

“I’m afraid, though I am one, you’ll probably want to do some reading before you ask any questions. Luckily for you, I have plenty of books about them and I’m happy to lend you a few.” 

You reluctantly nod. 

“What’s in it for you?”

  
“What’s in it for me? Why, darling, I haven’t seen another wendigo down here in quite a while! I devoured most of them!” 

He smiles more darkly now and you inch away. 

“Love me the taste of venison, yes ma’am!” 

“You what?”

“Ahaha, you have much to learn about the wendigo, it seems. But never you mind that, darling. Since you’re awake, we might as well head down to breakfast and out on the town!” 

You look back to Vaggie and Charlie for support, but they seem just as dazed as you by Alastor’s sudden interruption. Charlie gives you a supportive smile but that’s it. Before you know it, you’re being whisked away by that damned red-clad demon again who, now, has even _more_ reason to be interested in you. And, if you’re certain about what you heard, you’re now potentially on the menu. 

You flash back to your first conversation with him. 

_I could make a good gumbo out of you._

You shudder, doing your best to put that poker face back on. For the first time, though, you notice something. He isn’t badgering you with conversation. 

He’s completely silent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! 
> 
> This was a long one; wanted to make up for yesterday's little blip. 
> 
> Now excuse me while I cry since my school is now considering doing online classes for the fall. Ph.D. life is fun, y'all. ;-; So much fun.
> 
> Also, I realize that Viv hasn't been exactly explicit that he is a wendigo, but I'm choosing to go with it for the sake of some fun demon lore in later chapters. :) So please excuse this if you're on the fence about what he is.


	8. Gift Horse

Breakfast came and went before you were ready. Much to your terror, Alastor’s strange decision to stop speaking carried out the whole time you ate. Instead, he watched you with that petrifying smile while he scarfed down more bacon that you’d ever seen on a plate, let alone disappear into someone’s mouth. 

_Does he ever stop eating?_

Granted, you found that you were hungrier than you’d ever been in your life. It seemed to you that no matter how much food he put in front of you that you would never be satisfied. After about an hour, you finally gave in, still not entirely satisfied. You resign yourself to helping him with dishes again—the hard way. 

But, this time, he chooses to call in someone else to do the dishes. 

“Angel Dust!”

“Whaddya want?”

“Get in here,” Alastor commanded, a tone of annoyance lacing over that false smile of his. You were catching on fast; you wonder silently if Alastor knew this. 

“I don’t believe you’ve met her yet, but this is our new guest. Before you pester her with questions, no, she doesn’t remember her name. I believe Niffty is going to help her sort out something to go by while we’re out shopping for her today. Needless to say, you need to do your part today. Dish duty.” 

Angel Dust groans. 

You’re overwhelmed by how tall this feminine arachnid is. Pink stripes, pale white, fluffy body and the largest puff-like thing resembling breasts over his chest. You resist the urge to gawk openly. 

“Like what ya see, toots? You aren’t my preferred clientele, but for a price you can—” 

Alastor slaps him over the head with his cane. 

“That’s enough of that, Angel. Our guest here doesn’t concern herself with such unpleasant behaviors, isn’t that right, _dear_?”

His eyes snap to yours and you nod, a smile reappearing on your face. 

“Ya didn’t have to smack me like that, Al. If you wanted it rough, ya could have just said so.” 

You swear you hear Alastor’s radio sounds screech to a halt. He starts to look dangerous but Angel Dust brushes him off, moving into the kitchen to start doing dishes. You stifle a giggle when you realize that Alastor could do it all in a snap. You figure it’s pointless to ask. It’s clear to you that Alastor is anything but a fan of Angel Dust’s. 

“Maybe later I can get to know toots, yeah?”

Angel Dust calls this over his shoulder; you muster up some courage. 

“I’d love to get to know you. And Husker, too. And the other guests.” 

You smile at Alastor, mustering all the sweetness you can in your body. 

“I’ll consider it,” he snips. 

Without another word, he grabs your hand and escorts you from the kitchen, seemingly relieved to be anywhere but the presence of that strange, freakishly tall arachnid. 

“You met Husker?”

“I was with Vaggie. On the way to dinner the other day.” 

His smile softens; it occurs to you that he might’ve thought you’d broken his rules. 

_Dodged that bullet._

You wonder to yourself where your strong self went. The you that took down a serial killer single-handed. The you that put up a fight at everything that came your way. And, here you were taking orders from a wendigo in a red, pin-stripe suit like he owns you or something. 

And, in a way, you wonder if he does. He’s in charge of the hotel. He determines if you live or die. He protects you in exchange for whatever entertainment he gets in watching you suffer… struggle. You’re his _entertainment_. 

You struggle with this internally; unbeknownst to you, your poker face is gone. When you reach the lobby, Alastor decides to do something about that. 

“Darling, what is bothering you?”

You look up at him, frustrated more than ever with yourself for being an open book. After every careful move you make, you find yourself falling into his traps over and over and over again. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

  
It’s the first time you’ve outright resisted him. You don’t want him to have all your cards. You don’t want him to know everything; at this point, you’re outright annoyed with him. Unbeknownst to you, you now have more than one part of your anatomy betraying you. Your ears are flat against your skull. 

“Wow, darling, I didn’t know you had that level of anger in you.” 

And then he pushes it. 

He puts a hand out and strokes your ears. 

You move up and you swat his hand away. 

Of course, that’s your first mistake of the morning. 

“Darling,” he purrs. 

“What?”

His eyes are dials again; the room becomes dark and, suddenly, it’s just you and the monster morphing in front of you.

“Don’t touch me.” 

The voice is warped; you aren’t phased though. This time, you aren’t going to cower away. You aren’t going to let him have the upper hand all the time. 

Your eyes glow brighter; you can’t morph like him yet, but you stand your ground. 

“Stop treating me like your toy. I appreciate what you’re doing for me, but you can’t help but understand that I might be just the slightest bit pissed at you if you’re just doing this all for your entertainment. Damn it, _Al_ , I heard how you took over the hotel. Took Charlie’s project. And you touched me first. Sheesh. Eat a Snickers, for Pete’s sake.” 

Your brashness surprises you; you wonder how you haven’t been eaten alive yet, but you aren’t letting him see your fear anymore. Your ears are flattened still and you smile even wider, just like him. 

All at once, the static stops. 

He blinks. 

“Is that what’s bothering you?”

Now the guilt sets in. 

“Look… I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. I know you’re protecting me. Feeding me. Taking care of me when I don’t even meet the criteria of someone who deserves to stay here. But, like, I don’t know….” 

An awkward silence sifts between you. You want to tear it. You wish he would say something. 

Before he can get a word in, a loud shriek followed by excited giggles comes tumbling down the stairs. 

_Niffty._

As much as you want Alastor to respond, you’re relieved someone else is there to break up the tension between the two of you. How you’re still standing and not in Alastor’s pot for his next meal stewing away is beyond you. 

“Hey, there! Ready to go! I have a _ton_ of boutiques I’d like to go to. Alastor, do you think we can visit my tailor? I really, really want a new dress!” 

Niffty blinks that one eye of hers like an excited child trying to negotiate with a parent. Alastor, who acts as though everything in the last five minutes was a work of fiction and _totally_ didn’t happen, chuckles. 

“Of course, my dear. As long as our darling guest doesn’t mind!” 

Your stomach churns. 

_He’s still going to help me even after I was rude._

But you’re too proud to show it. You can’t apologize now. He can’t just pet your ears like that. If you did the same, he would skewer you. 

But the angels and demons in your brain go to war. 

_Apologize. No. Apologize. No._

“I don’t mind,” you hear yourself say. 

_Apologize! NO!_

You find yourself getting a bit dizzy. 

“Are you alright?”

Your ears are to the side now. Your smile is gone. 

“Yep, I’m alright.” 

“Then you’d best be fully dressed before we depart!” 

You groan. 

“Sure thing.” 

Your smile is back and Alastor looks pleased. Niffty looks like she might actually explode as you step outside. To your dismay, it’s even redder outside than inside the hotel. The “sun” is in full view and color is gone from the world. You are, perhaps, the most colorful blotch on the street with your golds and reds and yellows standing out against the dull backdrop around you. 

_I thought deer were supposed to be camouflaged, caribou or not_. 

You keep your smile plastered to your face and Alastor links arms with you. But not before leaning down so Niffty can crawl up his shoulder and ride piggyback. 

_Oh so it’s fine if she touches you?_

You scoff to yourself. 

_Whatever. Crazy radio deer demon._

Acting as though nothing is bothering you now, you make a pointed effort to keep up with Alastor as he pulls you along the streets of Pentagram City. It’s a longer walk than you expected to reach the boutiques that crowd the strange streets. All around you, you hear swears being hurled, bombs going off, people being robbed. And all the while Alastor stays calm. He’s like a ringmaster at a circus—a delicate figure of mystery that walks among the chaos and acts like it’s home. 

To you, though… you’re finding yourself all the more disgusted with the place than ever. 

_Kill_. 

The thought crosses your mind before you can stop it. You almost freeze. 

You shake yourself a bit, pretending as though a shiver has gone down your spine.

“I suppose you need a jacket? Maybe we should make a coat your first priority. It is January, after all.” 

Niffty’s words jolt you to a strange realization.

“Wait, Hell has seasons?”

Alastor laughs. 

“Indeed.” 

You shake your head. 

_Of course it does._

That doesn’t stop you from thinking back to earlier. 

_Kill? Why on earth would I think that? Is that some sort of demonic impulse?_

You look up at Alastor, trying not to make it obvious that you’re staring. 

“You said you had books on wendigos, yeah?”

“Of course! Is my collection something you’d like to borrow when you get back? You’ll have to go one at a time; I have due dates you must adhere to if you do borrow.” 

You nod. 

“What’s the turn around time?”

“A week.” 

“Sounds reasonable. I can do that.” 

“Good! And let me warn you, if you dog ear a page, I’ll make sure you never have ears of your own to hear with again!” 

He laughs; the sound of him makes demons everywhere screech and flee from his presence. You don’t blame them. 

“Alright, girls. Here’s the first stop. I’ll wait outside. Niffty, tell them to put it on my tab like usual.” 

_His tab?_

“I thought you said—”

“Come on!” 

Niffty drags you into the first boutique before you can challenge Alastor. 

_His tab? What happened to the hotel’s tab?_

You find your face even more flush with embarrassment. 

But the sight of Niffty trying on everything she can and throwing piles of clothes on the counter with glee makes you forget that little detail. You find yourself laughing with her, though you’re not nearly as extravagant with your purchases. You get a light coat and a heavy one. A few shirts. Some pants. Many of them are, as you expected, right to your measurements. 

“Why did you guys take my measurements?”

“Oh, so we know which shops to go to! And Alastor wants you to go to this nice dress boutique last! We have balls and parties from time to time at the hotel and it’s important you have some high-end wear!” 

You freeze. 

_What?_

But your question stays in your head. You finish up with only a few items to your name when you leave. Niffty leaves with more bags than she can ever hope to carry. Alastor laughs at the sight of them when you emerge, snapping his fingers and undoubtedly returning them to the hotel. Niffty puts her arms out and he scoops her up. 

_He’s literally a dad._

You give him a small smile, clutching your own bag and making it clear you don’t want his help anymore than he’s offered. And, of course, he doesn’t listen as it, too, disappears from your hand. 

“Next stop!” 

You feel yourself get even sicker than before. 

_More?_

Alastor notices your discomfort and smiles. You aren’t going to get away without getting more and you know it. He won’t allow it. 

It’s going to be a long, long day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this latest update! I had a midterm Wednesday; studies come first. I hope this chapter makes up for the wait! :3


	9. Nausea

Hours had passed by. For each shop you went to, it was a battle with Alastor to prevent him from getting you anything more. He was spoiling you; you hated it. Eventually, he grew frustrated with you and started following you into the stores. Anything your eyes fell on that you liked, he knew. You would glare at him, but it was to no avail. 

Finally, you reach your last boutique of the day. Of course, it has to be the worst. 

_The dress shop._

Niffty wasn’t kidding. This place screams high end. The word Franklin was scratched out, leaving the sign as reading Rosie’s Emporium. It doesn’t give off the appearance of a dress shop, but you know that if Niffty says it is, then it is. 

When you step inside, you’re immediately thrown off by the person you’re greeted with on the other side. 

“Hello there, darling,” she coos. “My name is Rosie.” 

Where her eyes should be are two darkened holes; she looks like a prim and proper porcelain doll. Like Mary Poppins meets every horror movie ever that involves dolls. Still you don’t let this phase you. A day in the streets of Hell has hardened you; you hardly expect anything less of this place. 

“Hi. I wish I knew my name, but I don’t. But it’s nice to meet you.” 

This causes Rosie to pause, giving you a firm look with a raised eyebrow to match. Before she can ask anything more of you, Alastor comes bursting in behind you. 

“Rosie, my dear! It’s so good to see you!” 

He squishes her in a very violent-looking hug. She grins, stifling a giggle as he pulls away to stare down at her with that deadly smile of his. A small churning starts in your stomach. 

_Am I sick?_

You find that the nausea wears off after a few moments; the woman, Rosie, returns her attention to you. 

“I suppose you’re the one here for a fitting, hm?”

Her voice is sweet, like honey; beneath it, though, is an edge that you recognize to be deadly. This is someone who is not to be messed with. 

_Note taken._

You nod your head, careful not to say anything more than necessary. Alastor’s eyes never leave you as she whisks you toward a dressing room. 

“Wait, what—?”

She pushes you inside, sizing you up. 

“Niffty’s measurements are precise, as usual. I’ll be right back with the selection Alastor requested, my dear.” 

With that, she leaves you standing in the dressing room. You’re mortified at the thought of undressing yourself; therefore, you opt to look at yourself in the mirror and try to shake yourself at the sight of the antler-wearing freak that’s supposed to be you that stares back. 

Before tears can form in your glowing eyes, Rosie returns with the first of Alastor’s selections. You were expecting something from the thirties; while this dress has a retro appeal, it is simply jaw-dropping. It is gold like that of a setting sun—something to accentuate your coloring far more than you ever could have hoped. It’s a trumpet style that will more than likely accentuate your curves and make you fit for a spotlight. You cower at the sight of it. 

“I… that looks… it’s lovely, but….”

“But what? Here,” she snaps her fingers, leaving you standing in the very same dress with a hairstyle to match its glory. You tremble as she pulls back the curtain, beckoning you forward to stand on the pedestal in the center of the room. Niffty is squeaking with glee at the sight of you; for a moment, you swear you see a bit of color appear in Alastor’s cheeks, but it quickly disappears even if it was there. 

“Lovely! Just as I ordered, Rosie. You never fail to amaze me!” 

She bows, giggling at Alastor’s compliment. A bubbling starts back up in your stomach. 

_Nausea, again? What on earth is wrong with me?_

You shake your head. 

“Now, we have a few more dresses; those have been set aside. It’s up to you—do you want to try them here? Or would you prefer to look at them in private?”

Her knowing glance shocks you. She was giving you an out. 

“I think I’m a fan of surprises; you do lovely work and I have no doubt I’ll love the rest. Thank you, Rosie.” 

She smiles at your courteous response. 

“She’s lovely, Al. It’s a shame she isn’t called by anything.” 

Niffty giggles.   


“I have a name idea for her!”

You look down and find that she’s wearing a rather puffy, yellow ball gown. It sparkles and shines, accentuating her in ways you didn’t think possible. You stifle a laugh. 

“Do tell!” 

Alastor leans in, his grin widening even more. You wonder if it might one day split his face. 

“Daisy.” 

You pause.   


“Daisy?”

“Yeah! You’re innocent, but you grow and shine in even the darkest and most difficult of places. Some people might think daisies are weeds or a nuisance, but in fact, they’re a flower that chooses to grow anywhere. I know it’s not your real name, but at least you have something to be called while you figure it out, yeah?”

Her point is so deep and well-thought that you find that the wind has been knocked out of you. 

“… Yeah… wow, Niffty. That’s a really thoughtful name. Thank you,” you murmur. 

Alastor catches sight of the few tears that have caught in the brim of your eyelids. He cocks his head to the side, the urge to stretch a smile back on your face overwhelming. It’s clear he doesn’t like seeing you cry, so you stifle the urge and put your poker face back on. 

“I think Daisy is a lovely name. A fellow citizen of Hell to share a name inspired by flowers with!” 

Rosie breaks the silence and claps her hands together. 

“This one’s on the house, Al!” 

“Absolutely not, Rosie. What’s your price?”

“Not to worry! I insist you take these pieces. It’s always a pleasure to serve lovely patrons such as Daisy. And dear, feel free to stop by for a spot of tea from time to time. I’d simply adore getting to know you.”

Rosie, as strange and uncertain as she makes you feel, also inspires you. She takes no shit from the Radio Demon. It’s clear that, in this case, he’s going to lose this battle. You wonder if maybe she can teach you how to win against him for future purposes. 

_If Alastor ever lets me out of the hotel by myself._

“Thanks, Rosie.” 

In a snap, you’re back in your old clothes and the dresses disappear. Undoubtedly to your closet. You forget to take note of how many you think there were in total. It wasn’t very many; you’re grateful for that. Any more generosity on the part of the crazy ass Radio Demon you’d come to know would send you over the edge. 

“You’re ever most welcome, dear. Now, as much as I’d like to continue our chit chat, I’m afraid I have some other business to deal with today. Alastor, dear, do stop by later!” 

“Of course, darling!” 

Your stomach does flips. 

_What in the world?_

When you exit the shop, you’re still clutching your stomach as you watch Niffty climb back aboard the Alastor Express. Said Express notices you in your current state and, for a moment, his smile becomes smaller. He looks… _concerned._

“Are you alright, my dear?”

“Yeah, I just don’t feel all that well. Do you think we could go back to the hotel now? I’m spent.” 

“Of course!” 

He places your hand in his and, for a moment, the strange twist in your stomach subsides. You’re grateful for the reprieve as you make your way back down the street; the trip back doesn’t take nearly as long as the trip there. 

When you open the door the hotel, you’re greeted by utter silence. 

“Where are all the guests? What time is it?”

“Dinner! I suppose I neglected to take us to get food. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with you…” Alastor places a hand to his chin, examining you thoughtfully. 

“Oh… yeah… maybe.” 

Your cheeks flush; your temperature is spiking, rapidly. 

“Or not.” 

Before you can protest, he sets Niffty on the floor and sweeps you up in his arms. 

“I’ll bring soup up to you in a moment. You need rest.” 

You mutter something like a “no” and he grins wider than ever. 

“You should know better than to resist me at this point, doe. I’m going to get my way. You cannot convince me otherwise.” 

Your throat goes dry; the world begins to spin. 

_What’s wrong with me?_

Without thinking, you put your hands up and clutch him by his shoulders. You’re too delirious to see his eyes switch to dials for a moment—the teeth that were already so sharp get even sharper. 

You can’t see him as his eyes soften at the sight of you in your delirious state. 

No one but himself would know what you’d gotten away with. 

You touched him. 

You’re vaguely aware of him setting you in your bed. You find the ceiling spinning in all directions. You hear your new radio cut on and the sound of soft jazz playing. Your rocking chair creaks back and forth; you know someone is watching you. 

But you don’t know anything more than the comfort of your pillows.   
  
Before you close your eyes, the flashing images of Rosie and Alastor hugging and being much too friendly for your liking plague you. 

You swear you can hear a soft chuckle and something like “Well, I’ll be….” 

But that’s none of your business. 

Your eyes fall shut. 

In the meantime, Alastor’s smile becomes a bit distorted. He’s not leaving you in your present state. He knew that accepting gifts was difficult for you and found it entertaining, to say the least, to watch you squirm. 

But jealousy? Is that what was eating at you? 

And why?

He shakes his head, enjoying the feeling of the cool wood of the rocking chair he’s claimed while he waits for you to wake. But, on this subject, he doesn’t plan to pester you. 

He, too, begins to doze. 

The last thing he sees before he falls into his dreams is the way you spoke to Angel Dust. The way you talked about meeting Husker without him. 

His stomach churns. 

But for now, he chooses to ignore it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy this chapter! :3


	10. Daisies by the Sea

_You’re surrounded by daises—they grow everywhere. From your skin, your hair, and from the ocean. You’re back at the beach. This time, you’re looking down at your body. You’re free from its rotting clutches. You frown._

_It still hasn’t been found._

_Your killer, to your relief, doesn’t move._

_You take a moment to breathe in the sound of peace and quiet. Only the rustling of leaves and the hustle and bustle of the ever moving sea are there to break the quiet._

_The daises are a bit strange to you, but you can only attribute it to finally having a name. Still, a part of you winces at not being able to remember your own. A thought strikes you._

_You reach down to your corpse and search through your clothes. Your breath catches when you find it._

_A phone._

_You can’t remember the passcode. You have an inkling that it’s probably your birthday, but that date eludes you even more than your own identity does._

_You click the button to light the screen up, certain that you’re just as doomed as when you first started._

_You freeze._

_There, on your screen, are a litany of messages addressed to…_

_“Y/n.”_

_You scrolled and scrolled and scrolled for what seemed like hours. You never bothered to make your messages private when they reached your home screen. No point. You had nothing to hide and it never left your side anyway._

_You gave silent thanks to your living self._

_You could see it this time. You click the phone so the screen returns to black. You have a choice now. Do you want to be called Y/n?_

_Your eyes fall back on the sea; it’s filled to the brim of the delicate white petals of the daises that seem determined to eat it alive. You think back to Niffty’s excited huffing and puffing and how long she spent picking that name for you._

_You blink._

_You don’t realize that, this whole time, you’ve been crying._

_“Now, dear, you know crying doesn’t suit a pretty face like yours.”_

_You turn around, your heart suddenly thudding at a thousand miles a minute._

_“What? Alastor? What are you doing here?”_

_He cocks his head, chuckling. He reaches out to wipe a tear from your cheek and you can’t pull away, despite your mad desire to start running. Then, you notice something. Daises have begun to flower all around his antlers. They form a flower crown. He attempts to flick them from his head, annoyance plastering its way through his smile._

_You giggle._

_“Funny, hm? I don’t suppose you wouldn’t mind a shadow crown, then?”_

_Before you can protest, the shadow of a small alligator weaves itself—its live self—around your own antlers. The puffing noises it makes sound a little bit like a laser gun from a sci-fi movie. At this point, you’re laughing so hard you’re crying._

_The annoyance in Alastor’s eyes is replaced by pure amusement. You’re both laughing before you know it, any irritation at each other buried in the sands of your strange, flowery dream._

_“What are you doing here?” You repeat yourself, intent upon getting an answer. He can’t escape you. Not here. There’s no eluding the truth when you’re in charge of the landscape._

_“I’m not sure. I suppose your subconscious chose for me to be here.”_

_He sighs, sitting down on the sand with so much grace it’s disgusting. You flop down beside him, not even attempting to try and match the poise that you witnessed._

_“That’s weird. Does that include the other day when you possessed that body and chased me?”_

_“Chased you? Darling, I never chase people. It’s pointless. I prefer when I can capture my victims without any fuss or muss. If you have that much desire to live that you run, then to me, you deserve to keep that life for that much longer.”_

_The statement is so deep and revealing that you’re left speechless. But only for a moment._

_“Alastor, why are you in Hell?”_

_The question comes so quickly that you can’t even stop to think about how stupid it is. Part of you already knows the answer._

_He smiles._

_“I suppose your killer and I have something in common. Though, such barbaric methods of restraint aren’t really my style. I wouldn’t hide in wait like that. I preferred charming people. And it wasn’t for sexual release as it likely was for your… acquaintance….”_

_You blink._

_“Why?”_

_He turns to you, confusion apparent in those dark red eyes of his that glow a bit brighter every time you address him. You’ve been taking note of that; it’s funny to you that it happens even when you’re asleep._

_“Why not? I… I had my reasons when I was alive and I have them now. I don’t expect you to understand and I don’t know if I want you to. As much as daises are resilient… they are also delicate.”_

_He holds one in his hands and considers it for a moment before blowing it so that it flutters along the sea breeze, lost to time and memory._

_“I see. Maybe you can tell me someday? I understand if you aren’t ready now, but, I’m sure I’ll be here in Hell for a long time. You, too. If we’re still friends I’d love to try to understand someday.”_

_He laughs, a bit of bitterness in his tone._

_“Darling, no one stays friends with me for long.”_

_“What about Niffty?”_

_“She, my dear, is about as close to a daughter as I’ll ever have. And I don’t burden her with my personal problems. But real friendship? No… no that doesn’t happen for me here.”_

_“What about Rosie?”_

_The question comes out a bit more… aggressively… than you meant. You try to hide that you’re jealous; once again, he grants you the fake ignorance that he did as you fell asleep. But he knows._

_“She’s an acquaintance, darling. I’ve no more feelings for her than someone might in a business exchange. All that you saw today was a part of an act. She has business to attend to. I have business to attend to. We help each other out. But she’s a powerful overlord just as I am. What good would it do me to trust her with genuine secrets? Sure, I’m fond of her, but in Hell, you keep everyone close.”_

_You scoff._

_“I don’t know. I think you’re friends. I think you like her.”_

_He’s looking at you again and you blush. More daises appear along your skin and you hurriedly try to swipe them off._

_“And, even if you don’t think you can trust her, you can trust me. I’ll be your friend.”_

_That laugh of his is frightening at this statement. It’s like he’s burying any emotions that he might have in fake happiness. You worry for him. It’s evident on your face, which he clutches in his claws as gently as he might hold blown glass._

_“You wouldn’t want to get yourself hurt.”_

_For a moment, you wonder if that smile of his is going to disappear._

_And, in that moment, you grow brave._

_“I mean it Alastor.”_

_You grab his hand, ignoring the radio dials that start to form in his eyes._

_“I want to be your friend. You shouldn’t have to be alone. No one should. I know I’ve been an asshole these last few days. A scared little… doe. But I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You can be mad at me all you want for holding your hand, but, I just want you to know that you can come to me for anything. I like Charlie and Vaggie, but you’ve really gone out of your way to look out for me. Entertainment or not, thank you.”_

_Before you can stop yourself, you throw your arms around him in a hug._

_And then you’re crying again._

_You don’t see his radio dials disappear._

_But what you do notice is the way his arms come around your shoulders and rub your back. The sound of him whispering in your ear._

_“It’s okay, darling.”_

_“No, it’s not. I don’t know what to think of this place or how to handle any of this and I don’t know why you’re helping me and…”_

_You’re rambling nonsense at this point and he just holds you until you collect yourself. He doesn’t shove you off or make you go._

_“You know, some might call you a fool for trusting me like this.”_

_You laugh._

_“I died being as safe as I possibly could. In the most horrific manner I could have imagined for myself. And look where that got me? And something tells me that, if you were going to hurt me, you would’ve done it by now.”_

_He squeezes you a bit tighter, as though he’s afraid you might slip away._

_“I’d be pleased if you were friends with me, Y/n.”_

_“Actually, Alastor, I think I’m fine if my real name stays between us. Just call me Daisy. Niffty worked so hard on that name and I don’t think I want my old name to be mine anymore. I’m a new person, after all.”_

_You smile, falling victim to the sound of some beautiful music playing in the background somewhere. Undoubtedly from him, you realize._

_You don’t let go. You can’t let go._

_You know this isn’t real. None of it is. You wish you had the guts to tell him this in person._

_But for now, you dream on._

~*~ 

Alastor opens his eyes; he studies your still form and can’t help but grin a bit wider at the sight of the small smile that perks up on your lips. 

To you, that dream is nonsense. An apparition is holding you. Not him. 

But to him, it’s real. 

“What a gentle little doe,” he whispers in the darkness. 

Then he shakes himself. 

“What in the nine circles is happening to me?”

He clutches at his chest, annoyed by the way his heart flutters as he looks down at you. He grits his teeth, standing to take his leave. The rocking chair creaks a little louder than he meant to, but before you can open your eyes, he’s gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, but, I hope you enjoy nonetheless!


	11. Mischief in the Kitchen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely Cereza101 has created a playlist for Awakened; it is still in progress, but I'm linking it here and dubbing it the official playlist for this fanfiction! Go give it a listen! It's awesome! 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7731hZHLp9e66Y9RLoqY2D?si=LJIg9MeWRe2ZcVGu5PySNg

A week has passed since your… episode. When you woke up from that dream, you were disappointed that, truly, it was only a dream. In fact, Alastor was gone when you woke up.

_Off on another hunting trip._

You knew it would be a while before he returned. At the current moment, you’re with Vaggie and Angel Dust in the kitchen. You know very well how Alastor wants things organized and, though you can’t believe it, you’re grateful that he showed you how things were supposed to be arranged. You can’t imagine how angry he would be to return to a chaotic mess. 

You’re plating spaghetti for over fifty people; your arm hurts from ladling serving after serving. You look up and glare at Angel Dust who is, at the moment, yawning while flipping through a less-than-flattering magazine. 

_Disgusting_. 

You wish he would take that thing and go read it somewhere private. You understand now why Alastor finds him so annoying. 

At the mere thought of him, you’re returned to that dream. The smell of his suit and the feeling of his soft hair…. 

You shake yourself, finishing up with your current task. In a way, you’ve become sort of like a second-hand employee around the place. You help Niffty here and there with cleaning, you help the girls come up with schemes on how to better advertise the hotel, and you’ve taken it upon yourself to personally reorganize the public library. 

Your hands are itching to see Alastor’s collection on wendigos, but you don’t dare go looking for them yourself. Once dinner is over, you plan to make a trip back up to that grand room and have a look around for anything the hotel might have in its more accessible collection. Just as you finish with the last plate, you look up to find yourself eye to eye with Vaggie. 

“You alright, hon? You seem stressed.” 

You shake your head, struggling to find words to respond with. It’s been rough on you. They still don’t know why you passed out; your more violent thoughts have resurfaced more than once. It’s taken everything in you not to slaughter everything and everyone in your path. It frightens you, to say the least. You haven’t told anyone and you don’t plan to now. 

“Just hungry, that’s all. Can’t wait to get some grub myself, I guess.” 

You smirk at her before hurriedly going putting the last plate on the food cart that she’s about to wheel out. Even though Alastor isn’t here, his rule still stands about meeting guests before your powers arrive. You groan inwardly at being trapped like an animal in a cage, but you don’t dare say anything about it anymore. You felt bad for snapping at Alastor as it was. There was no sense in getting yourself into more embarrassing situations. 

You make yourself a plate of spaghetti and sit down at the kitchen table to eat. It’s piled as high as you can make it go with what’s leftover from serving the other guests. Your stomach is still crying for satisfaction even after you finish. You want to start sobbing. 

_Will it ever be enough?_

You shake your head, shuffling over to the sink to start washing dishes as they come in. Angel Dust remains seated on the counter, completely unconcerned with the fact that you’re doing everything yourself. 

_I have half a mind to murder that spider._

You grumble as you put things away in record time. Now that you know the system, washing and putting away dishes doesn’t take nearly as long. Everything’s going super well despite your irritation with Angel Dust. He doesn’t talk to you much which, to you, is a blessing. You don’t think you can handle any of his innuendos or advances. 

“Angel, I need you to step up and do something to help Daisy.”   


The command comes from Charlie, who’s just re-entered the kitchen. She looks worn from trying to run the place without Alastor around to help. She really isn’t suited for the stricter side of business. She’d rather be all smiles and rainbows and happy. But that’s not how a business runs. Especially not in Hell. 

Angel Dust scoffs, setting his lewd magazine aside. He comes beside you and starts to pick up a dish. 

You’re growing more irritated by the minute. He’s doing it all wrong. He’s throwing plates around like they’re confetti; you have half a mind to beat him over the head with a cast iron skillet. Seeing your twisted face, he laughs. 

“Wow, toots, I didn’t take you for the type to be so protective of Alastor’s kitchen. I mean, I get it. I’d be pretty protective over my sugar daddy’s stuff if he was that nice to me.” 

You freeze. You know that, if Alastor were there, a record scratch would have accompanied that comment. 

“He’s not my sugar daddy,” you hiss through gritted teeth. 

“Let’s see, he buys you clothes, takes care of you, gives you a room even when you’re not attempting to be redeemed… seems like a sugar daddy to me,” Angel Dust laughs. He’s obviously delighted by the flush of red that’s spanned your cheeks. 

Before he can respond, he’s slammed up against the wall. 

Except, there’s a problem. You never touched him. 

“Hey, toots! Lemme go! I was just joking around!” 

He’s squirming, but you’re not letting go. No. Not this time. He’s going to learn to stuff that mouth of his. You eye the garlic sitting on the counter from making garlic bread along with the spaghetti from earlier and your face curls into a wicked smile. 

“Why don’t you have a taste of the disgusting crap you spew out all the time, huh?” 

Without thinking, you levitate the garlic from the counter and it hurls itself at Angel Dust, stuffing his mouth with it. With a flick of your wrist, you’re forcing him to chew it. His eyes are watering and you’re laughing. Like a maniac. 

“Daisy, let him go!” 

Charlie’s scream is what shakes you from your angry stupor. In an instant, Angel Dust is off the wall and spitting up garlic on the floor. 

To your surprise, you hear Vaggie laughing. 

“Okay, that was pretty good,” she chortles. Vaggie comes up to you, smiling. 

“Try to be more careful. Looks like your powers are here. But _that_ was amazing.” 

“Vaggie!” Charlie scolds. But even she’s starting to laugh. And then you’re laughing, trying to hide the terror that you’re now reeling with. 

_What did I just do? I really need those books._

You look at the pile of dishes remaining; you picture where they’re supposed to go and, for the first time, you try something. 

And, with a snap of your fingers, they disappear to their proper places. This act leaves everyone stunned. 

“Looks like your powers are here, darling!” 

You all whirl around to see Alastor standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He looks as collected as ever, that smile plastered on his face. You know the chances of it disappearing are about as high as you going to heaven. You smile sheepishly at him. 

He notices Angel cleaning up the spit up remains of the garlic you choked him with. 

“I see you gave our effeminate spider friend a taste of his own medicine, hmm?” Alastor taunts. 

You shrug. 

“What can I say? Laziness isn’t allowed in this kitchen, now is it?”

Alastor laughs, but the spark in his eye screams danger. 

_What did I just get myself into?_


	12. Curiosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor's POV after he gets back from his hunting trip. 
> 
> Y/n has powers and is acting a little... odd...

You’re perplexed. 

  
The sight of the young demon—Daisy—smiling at you makes your breath catch for a moment. She has the kitchen in a state of complete, stunned silence. Something you pride yourself in being capable of producing simply from the fear you radiate in people’s very souls when you pass by. 

_Is this what she makes them feel, too?_

Your “hunting trip,” of course, was really a means to keep your mind from focusing too much on the little creature. Granted, she wasn’t as little after her transformation, but to you, she would always be little. Something delicate. Something to be… _protected_. 

You aren’t sure why you’re drawn to her, but you can’t help but feel that it’s your very duty to make sure not a hair on her precious head is harmed. The sight of those little antlers pulls your smile a bit wider. You’re too composed to let anyone see you shake yourself; granted, you’re certain no one is any the wiser that you’re so confused about Daisy in the first place. Why should you be? 

You’re _Alastor_. You have no reason to be attached to any one particular creature here in Hell. Niffty, though she is like your child, is capable of keeping her own. You don’t have to look after her. You’ve taught her well that she can snap her fingers and destroy anyone should they cross her. 

But then there’s _you_. Daisy. 

_Y/n._

You keep that one buried deep within your memory. You like that she’s none the wiser that her dream was, in fact, real. The memory of how she held you is enough to make you want to hide in a closet somewhere and bleach your skin of the memory. 

How could you have let her get away with such a transgression? Touching you was forbidden. _Is_ forbidden. She is not an exception. 

There’s no reason for her to believe that she is, either. 

But right now, she finds another reason to amuse you. 

_Her powers are here._

You’re practically alive with static as you approach the little wendigo, sneering down at her, static enveloping the room. 

“You’re correct, Darling,” you sneer. “Laziness is not allowed in the kitchen; I commend your decision to punish the effeminate spider for slacking on his duties. I do wish you would have waited for that fun little demonstration—I wish I could have witnessed it all. I’m sure the others will fill me in on how _spectacular_ it must have been.” 

Y/n shies away from you as you pat her on the head as though she’s little more than a child. An associate. An underling. 

You certainly don’t see her that way, but it’s best if she believes it. For both of you. You aren’t particularly bothered with how it makes her feel or how she might be hurt. Right now, you need to work on putting those boundaries you pride yourself in back up when you’re around her. 

“Well, Angel Dust, there’s not much left to be done in the kitchen, so why don’t you come help Niffty by cleaning a few of the unoccupied rooms? We might have new guests tomorrow, you know!” 

Charlie’s interruption is just what you were hoping for. You notice the moth demon glare at you as the others leave the room; you know she’s on to you. Perhaps she’s seen more than you’d care for anyone to witness. She knows you’re furious with Y/n. Why wouldn’t you be? 

_It’s not her fault._

The thought is an unwelcome intrusion; you brush it away. 

“Just what do you think you were doing?”

Daisy ducks down, blushing. 

“I was just protecting the kitchen. I didn’t know I could do that.” 

She shuffles her feet, trying her best to hide in her own shadows. For a moment, you want to scold her for being so apologetic. 

_It’s not her fault._

That thought again. How you hate remorse. Is that what that is?

“How was your hunting trip?”

“Changing the subject isn’t going to get us past this little… fiasco… dear.” 

She looks down, ashamed of herself. 

_Why do this to her?_

You sneer wider in the hopes that it makes you look even more intimidating. You don’t care for that part of yourself. It’s been gone for eons. 

Her colorful locks are enough to make you pause though. You missed them while you were out. You long to run your fingers through them again like in the dream. But such pleasantries were for those _weaker_ than him. 

“I’m prepared to overlook this little stunt so long as you promise to do magic only in front of me until we figure out what it is that you can _do_ and what your limitations are. You don’t want people to see your full hand before you even know how to play the game, Darling.” 

Y/n seems relieved at that. A part of you— _that_ part of you, lets you go for now. 

“I understand. I just didn’t know. I didn’t even realize I could do those things. The first part kinda happened without me knowing I could. It was tied in with how angry I felt. How can I prevent those things from happening? Just not have emotions?”

She’s pushing back; a part of you is stunned. She starts out sounding like she really aims to please or is genuinely sorry and then something within her awakens. She’s angry; you realize you might be in for a show now. 

“Alastor, I have never _once_ done anything to purposefully cross you. I have followed every rule you’ve set to the letter. Why? Who the Hell knows except you’ve been kind to me and been keeping me safe. But now that I’m in demon form and have powers, why do I need to stay here and take shit from you if all you’re going to do is sneer at me, threaten me, and treat me like I’m some kind of plaything? I have feelings, you know. And if you’re not going to respect those, I’m going to stop listening to you. You can have all the shit you bought me back if this is how it’s going to be.” 

Your eyes widen; your static becomes louder. 

“Are you speaking out against me?”

She plants her feet. 

“Yes, I am. I don’t give a damn at this point; I don’t expect you to understand. You know, I thought we were friends. I thought you cared. I stayed at this hotel because it was a safe haven and because I don’t have anyone outside those doors. But if you’re going to start acting like a threat then I’m going to start treating you like one. You’re _not_ my dad. You’re not my sugar daddy. You’re not my husband, boyfriend, or romantic partner of any kind. And even if you were, that gives you _no right_ to monopolize me. I don’t belong to you. I haven’t struck any deals that surrender my soul to you. I haven’t pledged my eternal allegiance to you. I thought you were doing all those things for me because you cared; honestly, it made me really uncomfortable.” 

She’s crying now. Rambling. Falling apart. 

“I’ll just leave. I don’t deserve to be treated this way when all I’m doing is trying to figure out who I am and how I work. Do you know how many horrible _urges_ I’ve had to kill people since this transformation? How out of whack I feel? I can’t make friends; I bonded with you because you treated me so kindly and this is the thanks I get for sticking up for your kitchen rules?”

_Urges to kill people?_

Your ears perk up. 

“Of course, you’re probably more interested in the fact that I want to slaughter people. Well, guess what, _bucko_ , it isn’t going to happen. I won’t let it. I can do research on my own, with or without your collection. Don’t you _ever_ come in here and talk to me like that again and demand I only use my powers in front of you. I’ll go tell the whole of Hell that I’ve just discovered them rather than do _anything_ you say if you _ever_ talk to me like that again. Radio Demon or not, I don’t give a shit.” 

Daisy is heaving, her chest pumping up and down fast as she attempts to catch her breath. 

“Daisy.” 

You finally find the room to interject. Strangely, you’re more concerned than angry. 

_What is this creature doing to me? Why haven’t I slaughtered it yet?_

“Don’t you _Daisy_ me. I’m leaving.” 

She whirls on her heel, marching out of the kitchen. You don’t stop her. 

You don’t see the tears start to fall even harder. You don’t hear her sobs from her room upstairs. Those are all nonsense. You can’t possibly hear her from that far away. 

But something calls you upstairs. 

You find her frantically trying to push her radio out of her room. She’s crying too hard to move it. 

“Daisy, stop.” 

“Why? I just made a fool of myself and chewed you out and stood my ground but let it get the better of me and I just _can’t_ figure anything out anymore! I’ve gone insane!” 

“Daisy, transformations take a lot out of a person. I only want you to use your powers in front of me because it can take a lot out of you to use them for the first time. I don’t want someone to see that and use it to harm you.” 

“Oh, and did _you_ have that problem when you first got here?”

You freeze. Memories play back before you can stop them. No one’s bothered to ask you _that_ question. Or any questions, really. They just know to fear you. You’re the Radio Demon and that’s that. 

“Daisy, I assure you that my arrival here was anything but smooth. I didn’t become an overlord overnight, despite what people might say. Well, once I honed my powers I did. But I had to figure out what they were first. Did I come into them faster than you? Yes. Why? Lucifer knows, but time is no indicator of one’s success here in Hell.” 

_Why are you telling her all this? She’s not an overlord, nor is she destined to be one._

“And you haven’t offended me.” 

_Lies_. 

“Keep your things and, please, don’t leave. I didn’t mean for you to think that I would treat you in such a way. I thought we settled that before I took you shopping?”

She winces, sliding to the floor and leaning her head against the radio you bought her. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

Sighing, you keep your smile but let it drop a bit. No sense in being intimidating now. You’re starting to understand why she’s so frantic. 

“Darling, how has this past week been?”

You slide down to sit next to her, putting an arm around her shoulder. She leans in to hide in your chest. 

For once, there’s no static or radio dials in response. You remain composed. 

_What happened to “no one touches me?”_

The thought disappears when Y/n looks up at you. 

“I’m so hungry. And scared. And angry. I want to shred things apart and hide away in this room forever. I had a weird dream before you left and I’ve been trying to fit the pieces of my life back together ever since. I wanted to read those books you said I could but I couldn’t bring myself to go into your library—I don’t even know where your room is. I just… I just….” 

She leans into you even more; she’s slumping. 

And she’s gone. Passed out. 

_Hunger pains_. 

“You’re going to have to learn to hunt, soon,” you whisper. 

Your fingers are twirling through her hair. Not even the blood from your latest victims felt so good to the touch. 

A frightening thought passes through your mind. 

_What happens if I can’t get these thoughts and feelings to go away?_

You’re so disturbed that you don’t think twice before hoisting her up and putting her in her bed. You tuck her in, careful that she is positioned comfortably. 

Once you’re certain she’s in a deep sleep, you flee from the room. 

_Is it too early for another hunting trip?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay, guys! I have a final exam tomorrow and my study schedule has been SUPER hectic. I'm still dedicated to this story, though, so stay tuned for more! Updates will be slower than usual until my last final concludes next Monday, so I apologize in advance. I didn't think it would be this long before I'd post an update. 
> 
> Thanks for all the continued love and support during this time; stay safe and well everyone!


	13. To Get Lost in a Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huge plot twists coming; way longer chapter than usual. Hope you all enjoy!

You awake and find yourself alone again. You groan, pain consuming your body as your stomach twists. There’s no fighting it now; you’re going downstairs to that damned kitchen with or without Alastor’s permission or an escort. As much as you regret having chewed him out, there was a reason for your outburst. You can defend yourself now—a snap of the fingers is all it seems to take. 

You roll out from under the covers and make your way to your closet, sifting through various outfits before settling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. You never liked lavish or anything that made you stand out. Blending to the background was your preferred method of appearance. Alastor seemed disappointed at what you chose when you went out; you can’t help but wonder if he was hoping to find a like-mind—someone who also dressed for every occasion as though they were the master of a five-star circus full of wonders both horrible and unimaginably beautiful. 

That was the vibe Alastor gave you whenever he entered a room. You knew the gruesome truth lay just beneath the surface of that deadly smile of his, but his deceit was well-woven. Any unsuspecting denizen of Hell would fall prey to his shake of the hand and deals would be sealed before a person had a chance at making their own way. You half wonder why you managed to escape any potential trickery in that direction. 

But right now, your focus is entirely on your hunger. You’re starting to blur in and out of consciousness. 

_What is going on with me?_

You stumble from your room; at this point, the way to the kitchen is a trip on autopilot. Your feet land you through the doorway before anyone can stop you. For once, Alastor isn’t hovering over a stove or sifting through cabinets to prepare the hotel’s next meal. All the better. You aren’t too keen on being caught without a chaperone at this point. You knew that, for some reason, he took a liking to you and was stubborn when it came to “sharing” you. 

_As if he can monopolize me. He doesn’t own me._

Your eyes brim with tears at the sight of such a dismally empty refrigerator. Shopping day is tomorrow; you can’t wait that long. 

You start frantically opening every cabinet door, the pantry, the fridge—anything. Anything in the hopes of finding reprieve. You slap some horrible monstrosity together and sit down at the kitchen table. It’s a quadruple-decker sandwich with meat, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes… your stomach howls. You don’t have time to sit and admire its beauty. Right now, it needs to disappear. 

To your surprise, it’s gone within seconds. You’re afraid you’ll start to swell out like a grape if you keep eating like this but, to your amazement, your figure stays lithe and untouched by the calories you ingest by the thousands every day. You lower your head in shame as your stomach still growls, never satisfied. You know the hotel’s food bill has to be skyrocketing because of this. You eat enough to satisfy the plates of at least ten of the guests residing at the Hazbin Hotel at the current moment. You may not see them, but you don’t want to be the reason they go without. 

You lower your head to the kitchen table, hiding the tears that are welling up in your eyes. That’s cut short at the sound of the door opening. You sit up straight, expecting for it to be Alastor. 

Instead, you’re both relieved and annoyed at the sight of a very sleepy Angel Dust. 

“What the hell, toots, it’s like five in the morning! What are you doing down here?”

“I was hungry, that’s all.” 

Angel Dust flips his hair back, stopping to consider you more carefully. 

“I can see why Smiles likes you so much, but to let you get away with eating off schedule? He’s gonna flip if he finds you sneaking food before meal time…” Angel smirks. 

“You know, weren’t you the one to say that there shouldn’t be any misbehaving in the kitchen?”

His mocking tone is on the verge of setting you off. But you remain vigilant. You want to make friends with everyone here; it’s just taking a lot out of you to tolerate his jabs and crude humor. 

“Angel, why the hell do you even care?”

“I dunno. Any time I sneak food, Smiles zips my mouth shut with his voodoo or whatever and makes me leave. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for what I said to him when he first showed up here.” 

You cock your head to the side, still too hungry to speak more than a few words. Your stomach is churning. 

“What—did you say?”

“That I could suck his dick. He asked me what I can do for the hotel and that’s what I offered. Those services would normally cost a fortune; now he treats me like some common whore!” 

You roll your eyes. 

“How have you talked to him since?” You ask through gritted teeth. Your antlers are spiraling outwards. You don’t know what’s happening to you. 

“I… I mean I flirt and stuff. It’s just my nature. I mean, who wouldn’t want a piece of this?” Angel grabs at his breast-like fluff and jiggles it to further his point. 

For once, it doesn’t bother you. It occurs to you that Angel just might be that daft. Or desperate for approval. 

“I would suggest that you stop flirting with him and try just talking to him like a normal person. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so… so…” You can’t finish. 

You’re clutching the table for support when you hear the kitchen door open again. The tell-tale clack of dress shoes tells you that you’ve been caught. 

“Sneaking snacks from the kitchen, are we?”

You can’t look up at him. Not now. Not when the world is turning faster than your head can follow. Your eyes are fully dilated. Even Angel, the blurred version of him, looks concerned. 

“Toots, you doing alright?”

You hold up your thumb, trying to put it right side up, but you can’t. 

“Y-yep!” 

“No, no you’re not alright. Do you need more food?”

Angel opens the fridge and practically shrieks. 

“Where’s all the food?”

_Maybe that sandwich was bigger than I thought?_

He looks back at the plate in front of you and the lightbulb flicks on. 

“Did you eat everything?!”

“N-not… not every—”

You slide back into the kitchen chair, fully aware that your view of Angel Dust is now blocked by the red pinstriped terror that’s consumed your life. Why you find the sight comforting is beyond you. 

“Help,” you whisper. 

You wait for it. Yelling. Scolding. Reminders that you’re _his_ even though you never agreed to such an arrangement. But, instead, you’re greeted by a pair of long arms slipping beneath you to cradle you to his chest. Your head lolls as though it’s been snapped. 

“Come on, darling.” 

“Smiles, is she gonna be alright?”

The sound of concern in Angel’s voice brings tears to your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Angel. I’m sorry about the garlic. We can be friends,” you choke. “I don’t want to be mean to people.” 

You hide yourself deeper into Alastor’s chest; the move is not lost on Angel who raises an eyebrow at the Radio Demon. He grins with the most venom he can muster, but the damage is done. The effeminate spider knows he’s gone weak because of you. Even if you’re none the wiser.

“I didn’t realize you—” Angel starts, a snicker following behind his words. 

Alastor silences Angel before he can say anything more. He’ll pry him later about what this young woman could possibly have done to him to make him feel this way. Magic? She’s too new at it. Manipulation? Could she really be a master manipulator? It makes him angrier than he can fathom. 

He stares down at you with murderous intent, but it’s lost when he sees the tears streaming from your eyes. 

“I think it’s about time we start going through those books, love. I have a potion upstairs in my room that might help with this.” 

Alastor smooths back your hair and carries you from the kitchen, leaving Angel staring wide-eyed and with the juiciest gossip ever to hit Hazbin Hotel. 

“Wait till the girls hear about this one!” Angel beams. His eyes return to the empty fridge, his happiness quickly replaced with despair. “What the hell are we supposed to eat around here?!”

In the meantime, Alastor somehow manages to teleport you both to his room. You’re too disoriented to see anything properly. It’s neat. Much neater than even yours. It almost looks like it hasn’t been lived in at all. 

You hear him humming as he sorts through his books; before you, a vial appears. It’s full of something dark red. When you pop the cork, the smell gives it away. 

“Absolutely not,” you begin to protest. “I am not drinking blood. Do I look like a vampire to you?”

Alastor laughs. 

“No, but you look like a wendigo, little one. And if you don’t drink it voluntarily, I am not against forcing it down your throat.” 

He says it without so much as a change in the tempo of his voice. It remains happy—dangerously so. If you were more aware, you would see that you’re the one causing him to come so close to the edge of snapping. 

“Drink it,” he commands. 

The vertigo becomes too much; to your horror, you feel compelled to obey. And so you do. Down the vial goes; it’s gone in seconds. At first, it does nothing. 

“What was that supposed to do?”

“You’ll see,” he hums. 

“I don’t know what you’re—”

You lurch. Suddenly, the world stops spinning. The world settles. You’re back and you see, for the first time, that you’re in a room that smells like a swamp. The fog in the air gives it that mysterious air. There’s no water or trees or gators, but everything about the atmosphere gives the room that kind of vibe. You look over to see a massive, king-size bed with beautiful, ruby-red upholstery. Fit for a king, indeed. 

All along the walls are marvelous bookshelves filled with tomes you’re sure are filled with the most horrid of spells and wonderful fairytales. It would be a mistake to think Alastor wasn’t capable of enjoying both. 

His eyes catch yours as they scan the walls. He’s frustrated by how much you’re taking in. He can see it in your face. You’re connecting the dots to the constellations he’s done so much work in blotting out from the sky. He can’t quite figure out _why_ he’s still helping you when you’ve caused him so much pain. So much confusion. 

“Little doe, stop putting your nose where it _doe_ sn’t belong.” 

You blush, realizing he knew what you were doing. 

“Sorry, I’ve always tried to get to know people by their bookshelves. Habit.” 

You shrug it off as though it’s nothing, but the static filling the air tells you that you’ve touched a nerve. You stiffen in the chair he’s set you in. Despite the plushness of the cushion and backing, it suddenly feels as though you’re sitting on cold steel in an interrogation room. Your arms and legs might as well have been strapped to the damned thing. You can’t move. 

“I’ll make an exchange with you, little Daisy. You tell me what it is you’re doing to me, and I’ll let you read these books for even longer than a week. I’ll give you set times where you can come in and read whatever it is you want. But first, you have to tell me what it is you’re _doing to me._ ” He hisses it again. 

This isn’t a deal. An exchange, even. It’s a command with mercy tied to the strings. The problem?

“I… I don’t know what you mean?”  


He whirls around, a stack of books in his clawed hands that grow sharper at the sight of you. His antlers are growing—massively. He becomes the very image of violence and chaos right before your eyes. Before you can react, this hissing, snarling, distorted version of Alastor has you pinned to the chair, his teeth dripping with hunger and rage.

“Spill your secrets.” 

You shudder, shrinking deeper into yourself in an attempt to pry yourself free. 

He’s going to shred you apart in his own room. You let him take you with him because he promised to help. He was supposed to let you read up on wendigos and understand who you are. 

“Alastor,” you plead. “I really don’t know what I’m doing to you. What do you think I’m doing to you?”

The monstrous form of him cocks its head to the side as though it might actually be considering your words. 

You slide from the chair to the floor, hoping that you might be able to ooze through the floorboards and make it to a different level of the hotel. You want to flee. Go anywhere but here. 

Your ears flatten against your head and, despite having held your resolve for this long, you can’t anymore. It shatters. And you’re crying again. 

  
“Please don’t hurt me. I don’t know what I’ve done to hurt you, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been an ungrateful brat. I’m sorry. I just don’t understand why you’re helping me so much when you have nothing to gain from it.” 

It’s a hurried rush of whispers laced with panic and confusion. 

“Please, Alastor. I’ll just leave. I’ll just leave the hotel. You don’t have to help me if you don’t want me here anymore.” 

The monster follows you to the ground, shadows curling all around you.

“You’re never leaving me.” 

You swallow.

“I can’t let you leave. You’re _mine_.” 

You hiss. 

“Since. _When_?”

Before you can stop him, those razor sharp teeth of his bury themselves in your neck. Blazing hot pain sears throughout your body; your veins turn completely black. You pry at him to get him off, but he won’t stop. 

Your mind is a million different versions of nightmares at the memory of what he said. He _eats_ other wendigos. 

You want to stay strong, but you’re sobbing. You’re grabbing onto him in a pitiful attempt to appeal to whatever logical side of him there might be left. 

And suddenly, the thunderstorm of terror stops. His teeth aren’t buried in your neck anymore. His smile is still there, but his eyes are filled with a fear all their own. 

“What—what have I done?” He whispers. 

You’re still curled on the floor; he’s still sitting next to you. Completely normal now, but when he comes near you, you flatten yourself back on the floorboards and push him away. You slap his hands when they try to smooth your hair. You don’t want him touching you anymore. 

“Get away.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t, darling,” he says, sorrow being the only emotion you can detect in his words. 

You shoot up, staring at him with all the fire and brimstone you can muster in those beautiful, luminescent eyes of yours. They’re full of fury and danger now.

“What was that all about?” You shriek. “What in the nine circles did I do to deserve that? Is this because I stood up for myself?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but you’re not letting him have even a single inch. 

“You let me have a book; I’m gonna read it. I’m gonna sit here and read it and you’re gonna shut your trap. I don’t want your help if you’re gonna terrorize me like I’m some kinda sack of shit toy for you to play with!” 

You’re screaming now. The whole hotel might hear you at this point and you don’t care. Let them hear. They don’t care anyway. They let him get away with damn near everything with you. He’s in charge. 

_Not of me, he’s not!_

You grab one of the books he was reading. You start flipping through it; the words begin to calm you. Much to your relief, he sits on the floor right where you left him. Alastor seems as though he’s in a daze. He’s muttering things to himself but you don’t listen. 

You’re able to read much faster in Hell than you were on Earth. And that, in itself, is a curse. 

Two chapters in, and you slam the book shut. 

“What do you _mean_ I’ll only be satisfied if I eat flesh?!” 

He doesn’t answer you, that smile dangerous and paper thin. You shake the book in his direction; his eyes are glassy. They meet yours with something akin to nervousness in them. Like he doesn’t know what to tell you. 

“Read the last chapter,” he murmurs. 

You flip to it, though you’re not sure why you’re still letting him have the reins on what you should learn or do first. 

You start reading it; a few pages in, and your hand flies to your neck. You start screaming. 

“No! No! NO!” 

You run to his bathroom, flicking on the light and staring at the mark he left in your flesh. Two antlers shaped like his—dark and inky—are burned into your skin. You run back into the bedroom where he still sits on the floor looking like a broken doll straight out of a horror movie. You drop next to him, staring at the mark on his neck. The antlers there look like yours. 

“YOU DID NOT DO WHAT I THINK YOU JUST DID!” 

You won’t smack him. You can’t. You won’t stoop to violence like him. 

“I’m getting out of here! I can’t do this anymore—”

The door locks itself; you turn back to him, aware that the room’s temperature has dropped a few degrees. You shiver. The danger isn’t past yet. 

“You MARKED me?!”

He looks up at you, his smile widening. 

“Y/n, what else was I supposed to do?” 

You freeze. 

“That dream was real?”

“Yes, it was. Just as much as that pact between us is now, too.” 

Everything around you is starting to blur again, except, you’re not hungry anymore. 

“I’ll have your things moved into my room.” 

You want to protest, but you know you can’t win.

“Is this true? Is this what you did?”

You flip back open to that last chapter. 

_On the Marriage and Bonds of Wendigos._

Your eyes are burning. This was not the happily ever after you wanted. This was anything but. You barely knew Alastor and he _fucking_ bound himself to you? You’re like… _married_?

“How does that even happen? It says you have to love each other for it to work! I—”

You pause. 

“Shit.” 

You look at him a little closer and it dawns on you as to what he was talking about. Of course a freaking serial killer doesn’t understand emotions. Of course he wouldn’t understand what love was. He _would_ think you’d poisoned him.

And now the asshole went and did the unthinkable. 

“Please tell me this is a joke.” 

He looks hurt for a moment, but the look disappears in a matter of moments. He composes himself, rising to his feet. He grabs your hand and raises your knuckles to his lips. You want to wrench your hand away, but given the horrible sight you just witnessed not a few minutes ago, you know you can’t afford to make that call. 

“I’m afraid not, darling. You really _can’t_ leave me now. You’re _mine_.” 

As much as you’re struggling to grapple with this, you know you have to lay the ground rules.

“And _you_ are _mine_.” 

You plant your feet, gently pulling your hand away. He won’t have the upper hand on this one. He can’t have it. 

He puts his hand back out as though he wants to grab onto you, but pauses. 

“You have no idea what you just got ourselves into, do you?”

He shakes his head. 

“No, but I’m sure excited to see how entertaining this might be! Now, did you want to read the full book? I’m sure you’ll be elated to know about your hunting habits, basic anatomy and biology and so forth…” 

As though someone flipped a switch, he’s back to normal Alastor. He’s completely aloof to the fact that he just _bound_ the two of your souls for eternity. 

_He loves me?_

_Wait… I… I love him?_

You look up at him; the swirling sensationin your stomach when he met with Rosie starts to make sense. 

“I… I don’t… I think I want to lie down. I’ll just…” 

You start to leave, but he stops you. 

“This is your room now. You sleep in here with me.” 

You groan. 

“Fine. Then let me sleep.” 

He pauses for a moment before a devious grin replaces his already menacing smile. 

“Let me read the books to you then. It takes longer, but I do adore it when I get to read aloud.” 

Before you can protest, you find yourself snuggled up next to him in a pair of your pajamas; he’s curled around you with a book on wendigo biology. You want to pull away, but the look on his face says he’s just short of snapping and becoming that monster again. Despite what he might look like, you know full well that he’s a dangerous animal in this moment. He’s not comfortable at all with what he just did. 

And yet, here you both are. Reading. And your eyes are lulling themselves shut to the sound of his voice. And once you’re gone to the waking world, he, too, follows you into the world of dreams. 


	14. Complacency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will y/n react when she wakes up and finds herself married? And what major implication does wendigo biology entail?

When you wake, you’re aware of the pain throbbing in your neck. Your skin burns; you blink in an attempt to bring your vision into focus. 

The first thing you notice is that you are most definitely _not_ in your room. 

_What the…?_

Then, like a raging tidal wave, your memory crashes down upon you, swallowing you up with all the emotions you’d tucked into the recesses of your mind the night before. Your heart rate begins to race down a thoroughfare; your horse isn’t winning and your bet is about to be lost—in fact, as you slowly turn your head, you’re certain that you’re doomed to lose your entire livelihood. 

There, at your side, is a sleeping Alastor. To your surprise, a small smirk remains upon his face. How he manages to keep smiling even when he’s not awake is baffling. How he remains so _peaceful_ despite the horrifying events from the night before….

You suppress a shudder for fear of any movement waking him. You have no clock by your bedside; you’re certain it's probably on his bedside table and your eyes are too bleary to read an analog clock right now. There would be no bright, red numbers to tell you what awful hour of the morning it was. 

For now, you’re left to stew with your raging thoughts. 

_Married? What was he thinking?!_

Your stomach churns as you begin to process once more the things you read in that awful book. 

_Maybe the book is wrong? Maybe I’m not married… Maybe that author is incorrect._

You turn, making sure Alastor is still fast asleep. You creep from beneath the covers, sliding at the speed of a snail out from beneath the sheets. Your feet gingerly scrape the floor and you stand. You turn to see if he’s awakened either, but, in fact, he is still out. 

You save your sigh of relief for later. 

For now, you’re on a mission to find _any_ strand of information that might tell you if you’re as screwed as you think you are. The books lining Alastor’s shelf are in order alphabetically by last name; some are in English and some are in languages you can’t even begin to hope to decipher. Anything that bears the title “wendigo” somewhere in the name is removed from the shelf and into your outstretched hands. You’re grateful you can read so quickly as you skim page after page after page. 

Everything reads the same. Everything on the marriage and mating habits of wendigos tells the same awful truth that you came to realize last night. Finally, you reach the last book. When it gives you the same results, you’re tempted to scream. 

A childish part of you wants to just accept it. You remember some of what Alastor talked of last night when he read to you that book on wendigo biology—primal instincts play a major part in the feelings that reel their nasty heads like they are now. 

_What’s the harm in just going with it?_

_I don’t know, Y/n, marriage is ETERNITY here! Unless you’re freaking erased, you’re stuck with him!_

You’re not about to commit second-death suicide just to escape marriage, either. You pull back down one of the books you’d scanned on marriage. You want to know as much as you can about just how deep the bond goes. 

Your face is fixed in a very intent frown when you hear him. His breathing. And, in fact, he’s very much awake. And _right_ behind you, scanning the same pages you are. 

“Good morning, darling!” 

You jump; the book flies out of your hand and into his own. He catches it with so much grace that it disgusts you. His eyes fall back on the last page you were scanning. 

“I see you’re doing more research!” 

You’re not sure whether you want to slap him, laugh, run, or scream. Or all of the above….

“Alastor, look, what happened last night—I…” you begin to try and formulate a thought, but you’re not even sure what you’re thinking. You’re angry, scared, confused. Your mind is spinning and you fear you might collapse. 

“You what?” He raises an eyebrow and gestures for you to continue.

You take a deep breath. Your mind goes silent; for the first time, you have something to grab onto. 

“What the hell were you thinking? First of all, you scared the _shit_ out of me with whatever that intimidation tactic that was. That’s _hardly_ a proposal. And, while I’m flattered that you have feelings for me that are apparently more mutual than I thought, we’ve only known each other _two weeks!_ Alastor! You’re supposed to date a person! Get to know them! Make sure it’s a good match and at least _ask a person out before you MARRY them!_ ” 

Your chest is heaving and you lean back against the shelf behind you to steady yourself. His grin is still present but his eyes sparkle with curiosity. He’s not irritated or concerned in the slightest. Just… _curious_. How you can tell is beyond you, but you bite back any insults you might let fly. There’s no point in pushing his buttons any more than you might have. 

“Well, darling, as much as I would ordinarily agree, _I_ don’t develop feelings for anyone. I never have. Until you, of course. So why complicate things? I’ll admit, I should probably have restrained myself more, but then there might be the complication of other people trying to claim you and woo you and _that_ would be disastrous!” 

“Why, you scared they might have something you don’t?” You quip. 

His eyes flash and for a moment, you wish you were anywhere but in the room with him, but you stand your ground. If you’re going to be his _wife_ then he’s going to have to listen to you. Period. 

“Not at all. I just don’t want to be bothered with having to trample them all and wiping them from existence when they try to touch you. My little doe, I’m positively _enamored_ with you and I wanted to make sure everyone knows you’re mine right away!” 

And, just like that, the childish part of you comes back. 

“Okay, so what? So what if I wanted to marry you? Don’t you think I would have wanted a ceremony? Time to pick a dress and invite people to be my bridesmaids? Find someone to walk me down the aisle? Had that one day where I get to feel like a princess? And, furthermore, maybe it’s not about the competition, Alastor. If you knew I liked you back, then why didn’t you at least go through the trouble to date me? Spend time with me? Get to know me! I want to feel special, not like I’m a piece of meat you’re trying to keep away from the other _wolves_ out there.” 

You’re yelling now; tears are falling before you can stop them. He reaches out to catch one and, despite your instincts, you let him catch it. 

“Darling, I still intend to woo you. It’s not like I’m rushing in on that part. I just want to keep you safe. I want you to know right away _just_ how I feel for you—that my intentions are keeping you with me for eternity, just as you will… keep me.” 

The last statement shocks you for a moment. 

_Does he really see this as a two-way street? I mean, we both had to love each other for that to work, right?_

Your stomach churns again and you hide your head in your hands. If you had your way, you’d disappear from the world for a few years and come back when you were more sure of yourself. 

“I know you’re probably angry with me; how I acted last night was no way to show you my intentions. I’m not the best with emotions. I’ve never really had any like this prior to meeting you and I just felt that I had to act as fast as I could. I… I can’t really see my world without you in it anymore. And that… perplexes me,” he says to you through gritted teeth. That’s when you catch it. Fear. He’s genuinely afraid of how he feels. 

“Alastor, have you ever loved anyone before? Ever?”

His eyes fixate on yours, his pupils dilating a bit and his stance relaxing. 

“Only my mother, and not like this.” 

The room goes cold for a moment and you’re left stunned and feeling _bad for him again_. 

_Why?_

“Alastor, I’m not trying to make a mockery out of your feelings for me. Clearly, for that ‘ceremony’ to have worked, I had to love you, too. And to be honest, I’ve never really loved anyone besides family either. So you’re not alone for these feelings being new. I’m just frustrated that you chose to show it to me that way and that you didn’t give me more time to… process… all of this. I know you’re excited and that meeting the person you want to spend eternity with is probably quite the shocker, especially given how long you’ve been here as opposed to me… and I’m not denying that I have feelings for you too, please, let me make myself ultra clear, I just—”

Before you can protest anymore, he silences you with a quiet, chaste kiss. It’s quick; it ends as soon as it starts, but its stops you in your tracks as he presses his forehead into yours. 

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, sweetheart.” 

The whisper is so soft you almost don’t hear it. Your heart is soaring and, for the time being, you let your resentments go. You realize just how hard this is for him just as it is you. 

You wrap your arms around him, tears welling back up in your eyes. You rub your hands up and down his back. 

“You didn’t hurt me, Al. You just scared me, that’s all. I’m okay. It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.” 

You’re not sure if you’re saying these things more to yourself or to him. In any case, you’re a bit relieved as he slumps into your grasp, his arms tightening about your waist. 

“Please don’t hate me,” you say. It blurts out before you can say it. 

“Hate you? Why ever would I hate you?”

You shake your head, inner demons coming to grab you and pull you back into those dark spaces of self-doubt that you thought you’d left behind on Earth. 

“I… I just….” 

You’re left in silence. You can’t say anything. You don’t remember enough to know why you feel that way and why you’re so insecure, but you know you can’t stop the feelings from being there. 

“I don’t know. I’m very confused, Alastor. I don’t know how you wear yourself the way you do with so much confidence and give zero shits about what anyone else thinks. I just don’t understand. I’ve never been able to do that. And for you to be able to make such a decision without having to think about it—not even in the slightest. Like, I couldn’t do that even if I tried, even if I desperately wanted to.” 

He looks down at you and his smile grows wider. 

“Someday, you’ll understand. And, in the end, you’re a different person. It’s why I… I love you.” 

You blink at the sound of that statement. You’ve never heard anyone say it aside from, like, your parents and your friends. 

“I love you, too,” you mumble. 

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You clear your throat. 

“Well, I think we should go ahead and go downstairs to make breakfast, huh?”

Alastor laughs. He knows what you’re doing, but he’s not about to say anything about it. He’s just happy you’re not running away from him or screaming at him anymore. He’s still processing his own feelings. 

“Of course! One thing, though, darling. I want you to be sure of the fact that I don’t see you as my property. I realize that I’ve probably made things seem that way. It’s just a terribly dangerous place down here and I’m trying very hard to keep you safe. I only keep up all these rules and walls because, out there, you would be someone’s piece of meat if you don’t know how to hold your own. And that’s not an insult to you or your powers. That’s coming from someone who has been here long enough to know what happens to beautiful souls like yours.” 

It’s such a profound thing to say and, once again, you’re blushing. 

“I know. I’m sorry I keep accusing you of doing that. I’ll try to work on that.” 

He chuckles. 

“And I will try to work on expressing myself to you less… violently.” 

The two of you link arms and make your way down to the kitchen. His smile is wider than ever and he walks with a little more spring in his step. You wonder if this is how he was before you arrived. If maybe you were seeing a suppressed version of himself prior to now. 

Either way, it’s a pleasant sight to see him humming, grinning, and leering at any patrons that cross your paths as you make your way to the kitchen door. It swings open and you wait for his decision on what to make for the guests. 

Pancakes and omelets. 

You lick your lips, your stomach howling at the thought. 

“Wait, Alastor?”

His ears perk at the sound of his name. 

“Yes, dear?”

“You said something about me needing to hunt? What was that about?”

He laughs. 

“Don’t you remember me reading that book to you?”

You freeze for a moment. Then that last inkling of a memory from the previous night hits you. 

_No. NO._

“I… I have to… I’m a…” 

“Cannibal, dear. Don’t overthink it. I’ll help you understand exactly what that means later today when I take you out so you can get your fill. For now, I think these omelets will hold you over.” 

He almost sneers at you as he slips an omelet onto your plate. The meat in it looks highly suspect compared to what he normally gives you. You notice he made it on a separate pan from the others that are magically going about their business as well. 

“You expect me to eat this?”

“If you don’t, those murderous thoughts you mentioned not too long ago will start to overtake you and you will end up eating _anyone_ in sight that gets in your way.” 

Your eyes widen. 

You look down at the plate. It smells awfully good. 

_Is it really made from other demons?_

You nearly vomit at the thought, but your stomach is screaming now, the scent of it enough to send you into a violent frenzy. 

Reluctantly, you hold the forkful a few inches from your face. Alastor has turned his back on you and continues to hover over the dishes like a mother hen tending to her chicks. Food really is his specialty. 

_If he made it, how bad can it really taste? And if I have to…_

The first bite slides into your mouth and down your throat in a rebellious gulp. For the first time, your stomach is pleased by what you’ve offered it. A few seconds pass, and the omelet is gone. The relief is so overwhelming you begin to choke up. Alastor notices this and comes over to sit by you, placing an arm around your shoulders. 

“It’s alright. I suppose that feels better?”

You nod, hiding your face in his chest. You hate yourself for being so complacent in all this. Accepting the marriage was hard enough. Now cannibalism?

You close your eyes, half expecting to wake up and find yourself in your bed back on Earth. But when you open them, you’re greeted by the dark reds of his pinstripe suit and the smell of him—that earthy smell like he’s just come tramping out of the woods. 

“Al?”

“Yes?”

“How are we going to explain this to everyone else?”

Before he can answer, the _last_ person you want to see comes bursting through the kitchen door. 

_Angel Dust._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are enjoying these developments! 
> 
> Some more in-depth discussion on Alastor's decision will be brought to light as the story unfolds, as well as why Y/n goes along with things so readily. 
> 
> In the end, you can sum it up that it's a hard life for a wendigo in Hell. Stay tuned for more! :3


	15. Announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The staff catch on to what Alastor and (Y/n)/Daisy have done -- what will be their reaction?

“Uhh… what the hell did I just walk in on?” 

You tense at the sight of the arachnid demon; you don’t want him here. He’s not the first person you want to tell—even if you don’t tell him, he’s going to be suspicious and word will get around. 

_Why? Why him?_

Alastor looks to you; his smile is strained. He’s just as frustrated as you are that you’ve been interrupted. He stands up, leaving a hand loosely draped along your shoulder. You close your eyes and let out a sigh. 

“Nothing, Angel! Daisy here needed her breakfast and I was just sharing with her a lovely new recipe.” 

Angel cocks his head to the side, squinting his eyes. As convincing a response it is, your face is still stained with tears. 

“Right. Then why is she crying? Are you torturing her? Making fun of her? You’d better not be, Smiles, or I’ll go right to Charlie!” 

You stifle a laugh. Is Angel… protecting you? You remember vaguely that you told him you want to be friends before Alastor took you upstairs and… _married_ you. Your mind still can’t quite come to grips with everything. But you can’t leave your husband stranded and lost for words in a moment like this. You raise your hands. 

“Whoah now, Angel. He’s not torturing me, I promise. I’m just a little overwhelmed is all. My appetite is larger than usual and I get kinda… cranky… when I don’t eat.” 

“Well that’s certainly one way to put it,” Alastor laughs. 

You shoot him a glare and it only causes him to chuckle more. His hand leaves your shoulder and he snaps his fingers to finish the morning’s breakfast. 

“Angel, deliver these meals to our guests, please. I think Daisy is still a little overwhelmed from last night’s meltdown.” 

Angel’s gaze passes between the two of you. A smirk starts to form on his face. 

“Wait a minute, where did you two go after last night, huh? You weren’t…” Angel’s smile widens. Before he can say anything else, Alastor snaps his fingers and a zipper closes over Angel’s mouth. 

“I’ll have none of that language spoiling these dishes this morning, Angel. Deliver breakfast and kindly keep your poisonous thoughts to yourself.” 

Alastor grins even wider at him while Angel mutters through the zipper. The magic will wear off; it’s a common response from Alastor at this point. You can still hear him laughing and you curse yourself. Your cheeks are burning at the thought of… _that_. 

You’re back to burying your face in the table when you hear the sound of more footprints. 

“Good morning, guys!” Charlie’s cheerful demeanor seems to brighten the room like the sun itself might were to shine down in Hell. You’re grateful for her presence and, nonetheless, frightened of what she might say or think when she learns the truth. 

“Good morning, Charlie! Angel just took breakfast out; I left you and Vaggie your plates in here, of course.” Alastor’s chipper response baffles you. 

_How does he keep it together like this?_

But you do notice something. He’s definitely more animated than usual. The person you met was a _muted_ version of Alastor. Which terrifies you even more. Was that all because of you?

His eyes meet yours and sparkle a bit at the sight of you watching him as if to confirm your suspicions. You want to groan aloud, but you fear you might insult him. 

“Are you okay, Daisy? You look like you’ve been crying…” Charlie’s eyes fall from you and back to Alastor, squinting at the sight of his leering form. 

“Yes, I’m fine. No, he didn’t hurt me. Why does everyone think he hurt me?” You laugh. “I’m fine. I just got hangry; he solve that for me.” 

Charlie’s smile returns and she heads to the counter to retrieve her food. 

“Omelettes are the best!” 

She starts to stuff her face when, in a matter of seconds, the fork in her hand clatters onto the table and she shrieks. 

“What is that on your neck, Daisy?!”

_The mark_. 

You freeze. Before you can reach up to cover it, she looks over to Al. 

“Why does that look like part of your antler on there? Do you have one?!” 

_She knows_. 

Of course, Alastor’s collar is a bit high, but when he sheepishly moves his head to the side, his hair swings out of the way revealing his. 

“What did you two do?!”

At the sound of her girlfriend’s screaming, Vaggie comes bursting into the kitchen, spear in hand and ready to claim blood. 

“What’s going on?! What did you do, shitlord?!” 

Alastor laughs, moving aside before Vaggie’s spear can lance him. He lightly grabs it and pulls it from her grasp. 

“That’s no way to treat others, Vaggie! You hadn’t even let me explain myself; someone could have gotten… hurt…” he distorts the last word, letting his eyes spiral into dials. You cower out of instinct; the motion isn’t lost on him and causes him to pause. 

“I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

You blink, unable to respond. 

He pulls up a chair next to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. 

You’re shivering; you didn’t realize it was so cold in the kitchen. To your dismay, Angel Dust comes storming back into the kitchen with an empty plate. The zipper on his mouth is gone. For the moment, the spotlight is on you and your… _husband_. 

“Nice tat, Al! I didn’t take you for the type…” Angel slurs, making the inflection of his sentence all the more seductive. It makes your stomach churn. 

You look over to Alastor to see how he’s going to respond to that. He’s looking far more confident than you; the look on your face tells him everything he needs to know, whether you want him to know you that well or not. 

“I’m not sure how to explain this to you, but, Angel, this is not a tattoo. It is a bonding brand. It means that I have a wife; you’re looking at her at the moment. I’m afraid I… got a bit excited in my desire to court the lovely young Daisy and, for the Wendigo species, it is possible to end up binding yourself in eternal marriage if you don’t suppress your emotions well enough… needless to say, Daisy and I are married. To say it was a mistake is wrong… poorly executed in time and expression?” His eyes fall on you. “That… that might be more adequate. But, needless to say, she and I are bound for eternity now.” 

He says it like it’s as simple as anything else on the morning news. To everyone else, it is just as shocking as it was to you the night before. 

“Daisy, you… you… married him? You went along with this?” Vaggie looks at you with something akin to disappointment. For a moment, your soul wants to burst with something like rage. None of this was your fault. And you _certainly_ couldn’t help that because you had a mutual feeling that you would end up married to the pinstriped bastard next to you. 

_A handsome bastard._

You hold back a hard and steady facepalm, choosing instead to clear your throat and come up with something like an answer. 

“The process of getting married is… complicated… and I guess because I had repressed feelings for him it made the ceremony a mutually aligned thing,” you manage to answer. The person speaking sounds like you, but you're not sure you’re hearing yourself right. 

“Indeed; Daisy and I are still figuring all of this out. I’m afraid I acted rashly and got us into this sooner than I would have liked to have… I felt that I loved her and assumed marriage was the best thing to do to express that. I’m sure you all know I’ve never really loved anyone before, so I didn’t exactly know how to handle it,” Alastor smiles sheepishly. “Daisy here has informed me that there is usually more involved in terms of courting before one should make such a drastic step. But I don’t regret it!”

He pokes a finger to your nose; to your disgust, it gets you to giggling. The thought of all this is so absurd that the strings inside you were bound to snap at some point. And they are now. You’re laughing. You’re laughing so hard tears are streaming down your face. You wrap your arms around his shoulders for support and hide your face in his neck, still screeching with laughter. 

Everyone is staring at you; not even Alastor is laughing when you pull back.

“Sorry, this is all just… wow. I don’t even… whatever. I don’t regret it either.” 

You pop Alastor a toothy grin and you swear in that moment relief washes over him. 

_Did I frighten him?_

“I don’t… I don’t… What?” Charlie looks even paler than usual, the redness of her cheeks even fading. Vaggie moves to steady her before she faints. 

Angel, on the other hand, has decided it’s his turn to laugh. 

“Were y’all up there officiating the marriage then? Were you celebrating when I walked in on you this morning? Was he _too much to handle_ for you?” 

The zipper appears back on Angel’s mouth and you’re ready to haul off and throw something else at him. You hear something like “worth it” from behind the binds keeping Angel from saying anything else stupid. Alastor looks positively ready to murder him. 

“Are you serious shitlord?! Did you brainwash her? What did you do to her?!” 

She doesn’t have her spear, but Vaggie looks ready to murder Alastor. If you don’t step in, you fear there’s going to be a bloodbath. 

“Vaggie, calm down. It’s okay. This situation is really strange for all of us to figure out, I think. I… I don’t really know what else to say. This is very new to both of us.” 

You’re fumbling for better words to use, but you come up empty. 

“I… I…” Charlie is still trying to find something to respond with, too. You don’t know if she’s in more shock or if you are. Either way, the situation has gotten so much more awkward than you wanted. 

You look to Alastor for help; he seems content. Nothing bothers him at all about any of this. 

“So, are you going to announce that you’re official then?”

You look down and find Niffty staring up at the both of you; if her body were to shake any more violently she might explode. 

“Not yet, my dear. I’d like to court Daisy more properly first. And perhaps host a real ceremony.” 

At this, Charlie perks up. 

“A wedding?!” She seems positively elated at the idea, her mind coming up with a million different advertising schemes. Whether or not she was in power, she was always trying to find new ways to convince sinners they have a chance at redemption. A wedding would be a perfect publicity stunt. 

“Yes, darling. Why does no one hear me?” Alastor taps his microphone again. “It’s them, sir! Them!” 

You laugh a bit at the sight of it. And then your eyes grow wide. 

_Wedding?_

“Where would you have the venue? Oh! Who would come? Who’s invited?!” Niffty is bouncing up and down at Alastor’s feet. 

“All to be decided, little one,” Alastor scoops down and picks her up so she can board his shoulders like when the two of you went shopping together. 

“You could have the wedding here! We could redecorate the ballroom!” Charlie grins, rubbing her cheeks at the thought of such excitement.

You look at Alastor, your ears perked a little more than usual. At this point, this isn’t your train anymore. You’re at a complete loss for words. 

“What do you think?” You ask him this so softly that you’re sure that most people didn’t even hear you. 

“I think that’s fine. Would you be pleased with that?”

You nod. 

“It’s decided then! We’ll let you know when we’re ready to begin preparations.” 

Charlie’s out the door in a blonde and white blur. Vaggie reaches out and retrieves her spear. She shoots you a passing look of defeat before running out the door after her girlfriend. Niffty is laughing and talking to Alastor, but you can’t hear them. Angel’s zipper mouth disappears and he shoots you a smile. 

“I’m going to step outside, dear,” Alastor calls. “I need to make sure our guests were served properly.” 

The moment Alastor leaves, Angel comes up to you. 

“You okay, kid?”

You nod, pulling your knees up to your face in the chair you’re still planted in. 

“This was all his idea, wasn’t it? You don’t seem too sure of any of it.” 

You’re a bit taken aback at how insightful Angel’s observation is. You don’t know what to say and he takes a seat next to you. It’s amazing how much taller than you he is even while sitting down. 

“Does he make you happy?”

“I think so,” you whisper. “This is all just so fast, though. I’m still in shock while he’s announcing it to everyone and so sure of himself and… I don’t really even know what to make of _myself_ let alone how I would be with another person. For forever.” 

Angel nods. 

“That’s gotta be a lot. Look, kid, if you ever want to talk about it with anyone, I know Smiles doesn’t like me but you did say you wanted to be friends. And I’d be happy to take you up on that offer. You know what room I’m in?”

“Sixty nine?”

“Hey, look at you! You’re not as big a prude as Smiles would make you out to be, huh?”

“I was gonna teach high schoolers at some point when I was alive. What do you think?” You wink. “You hear all sorts of things. And you’ve gotta have a sense of humor.” 

Angel laughs. 

For the time being, things look like they might be okay. 

_Might be_. 

You stress that last part to yourself. You know murkier waters are most definitely ahead. But for now, you content yourself to making jokes with Angel in the kitchen and pushing aside your woes. That’s all you can do, anyhow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience you guys! It was a tough finals season and I've taken most of the week off to sleep and just come to terms with how awful the semester was. Hope you all enjoy the update!


	16. Carnage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy goes on her first hunt. 
> 
> Things go far from how Alastor expects. Or anyone, for that matter. 
> 
> **Warning. Depictions of violence and cannibalism. Do not continue if such matters make you squeamish or uncomfortable.**

The end of the day comes faster than you want. You’re still trying to digest everything that’s happened to you in the last forty-eight hours. Marriage. Cannibalism. Those two alone are enough to make anyone fall apart and yet, you’re dealing with more. 

Much of the day is a blur to you. You remember talking to Angel. You remember Charlie and Vaggie popping in here and there to check on you wherever you were in the hotel—you were always with Alastor. He carried you around and, for once, it didn’t make you so angry. You didn’t feel like an object this time now that you had a better idea of his intentions. 

_I think_. 

He’s really bad at expressing emotions—that much is clear. That smile makes it harder to read him than anyone you’ve met in the history of your existence. You’re better at it than most, but it’s still a handicap. He’s sparing with any affection to you and, for that, you’re grateful. You wouldn’t want him hanging all over you when you just came to terms with your feelings so recently anyway. 

Yet, you’re wondering when he’s going to start making an effort to court you like he promised. If he wants a publicized marriage, you want a token of his affection that is worth its weight in eternal matrimony. Something you never thought yourself getting wrapped up in, let alone so soon. 

In an odd way, the more you think about how he approached the whole “marriage” situation was cute… If you ignore the fact that he was a fricken monster—literally—when he decided to mark you. 

For now, you’re choosing to keep that memory locked far, far away in the recesses of your mind. 

Dinner has just finished up. You find yourself irritated at how much time you spend in the kitchen. Alastor _has_ to start letting you explore more. That point of contention remains; you wonder if it will ever be resolved. If you’ll ever convince him it’s safe to let you step outside. But you know he’s warranted in his concern for you. People in Hell are trash. You know this from what you saw on the streets just outside this hotel. 

_And to think some people end up facing this alone when they get here…._

The thought makes you frown. You’ve scarfed down your second dinner plate and, unfortunately, your hunger is still bubbling up. At some point, you know it’s going to break you. You’ll snap, just like Alastor predicted. 

You have to figure out how to stop that. Alastor mentioned _hunting_ earlier but the thought of something so terrible makes your stomach churn. You snap your fingers, cleaning up the plate you just finished off and it disappears to the proper place in its cabinet. 

Alastor gives you a look and you brush him off. He doesn’t want you using magic so much so soon. 

“As if I could be any more tired than I am now.” 

You feel yourself slowing down. You know he’s right and that you should conserve your energy, especially while you’re hungry. 

“Darling, since you insist on using your powers, I must insist that we go hunting. Tonight. You need to bulk up.” 

You roll your eyes. You’ve been bickering about this. You know he’s going to win. There’s now way you can go on with your head pounding like this and your stomach growling as loud as a category four hurricane. If you’re not careful, you’ll become the very storm that’s swirling within you. 

“Fine.” 

You’re relieved to concede and it torments you. 

“What does hunting entail?”

“Come with me,” Alastor extends a hand, as though he were inviting you to a five-star restaurant and he was a truly proper gentleman. 

While the latter part seems true, you know that you’re about to be exposed to some extreme carnage. 

You swallow your fear. You know he’s not going to let you out of this one. When you grab his hand, the world around you shifts faster than you can blink. When you land, you wobble a bit on your feet. 

_What the?_

“Teleportation, dear. You’ll learn it with some practice,” Alastor sneers. He’s amused by your obvious discomfort. You bare your teeth at him and carry on as though nothing happened. As though it wasn’t the most amazing thing ever to just hop from one spot to another. 

The magics in Hell couldn’t get old, could they?

_It seems like this place is full to the brink of surprises._

You glare at the biggest surprise of all standing next to you. 

“Well? Where are we?”

You both turn your attention to where you’re standing. It’s a dismal alleyway. In the distance, sirens are wailing, though you’re not sure why. You know they aren’t from police cars. Maybe alarm systems from businesses being stolen from? 

You can’t imagine trying to run a business down here. How would anyone protect their things and ensure they actually make profit?

Your admiration of Alastor grows as you continually realize how much effort he put into making such a name for himself down here. To actually be _feared_ in a place where fear is same-old is something. A shiver snakes down your spine and you grip his hand a little tighter. 

“We’re in a separate part of the pentagram. Southern portion. Not a big area; as of right now, it’s largely unclaimed territory after the last cleanse. I intend to take it before my rivals do. And _that,_ my lovely wife, is what hunting is for.” 

“What do you mean?”

You know you sound stupid, but you’d rather sound stupid early than wait and let all your stupid shine on some stage years later in the future when it isn’t so easy to hide. 

“The best way to garner power is to instill fear. You have to break a few eggs to make an omelette.” He grasps his chest and chuckles while you roll your eyes at the horrible inside joke. 

_It’s legal to throttle your spouse here…._

You size him up and remember that it’s a two-way street and it’s probably best not to attempt going down that avenue. 

“We’re going to hunt for our food in this little neighborhood while I broadcast and demand they surrender territory. Now, some minor ‘overlords’ might try to interfere with us. So you need to stick close to me. I’ll make sure they know not to mess with you and we’ll create a name for yourself.” 

“What? I thought I was going by Daisy now….” 

“Yes, but does anyone call me Alastor besides those that know me?”

You almost frown but catch yourself. You try not to be an active frowner anymore. You don’t like seeing him upset. Even his smile can’t hide the irritation when he catches you. 

“No, they call you the Radio Demon. Did you come up with that?”

He laughs. 

“No! Of course not! We’re making a name for you by letting them decide! That’s how I got my title.” 

You nod, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to snap together. 

“Okay, so, what, do we just go running in and attacking people? I don’t want to attack innocent people?”

Before he can respond, you hear a scream. It wrenches your gut. Your eyes, much stronger than they’ve ever been, trail in on a prostitute being chased home by some particularly unsavory characters. They’ve surrounded her. 

And that’s all it takes. 

Your demon form revs to life, as though it was there the whole time just waiting. You’re a towering, twisted, almost equine-like caribou. In the center of your head is a long, dangerous looking horn that spikes out between your now monstrous antlers. Something like that of a lightning bolt erupts from your mouth, blinding everyone in the surrounding street. Your gold and red fur is blindingly bright as you begin to chase them down. You’ve zeroed in. 

They don’t stand a chance. 

Your teeth tear into them and you’re feasting on them before you can stop yourself. The prostitute manages to get away, but you’re not done. 

You hack them to pieces, stringing the streets with their guts and blood. Somewhere in the distance you hear Alastor broadcasting. You can hear him cheering wildly and his own voice is disrupted by the chaotic static you recognize from that monstrous beast that cornered you in his room. 

You begin chasing others down. Anyone who looks suspicious. Anyone who looks guilty. Anyone who looks like that same damned predator who chased you when you were alive. Oddly enough, Alastor never moves. His victims come to him. They parade before him as though asking to be murdered. 

You, though. You don’t care. 

You’re hungry. 

They taste good. 

They die. 

Except, that’s just the problem. 

When your form dwindles down, you’re shaking. You can’t stand straight without Alastor holding you. Whatever primal rage erupted from you is gone now, but you can feel the tingling remains of that creature bouncing around in your veins. He sweeps you up and wipes some of the blood from your mouth. 

Your stomach is full. 

Something like concern fills his eyes as he looks back on the victims littering the streets. You don’t know. You can’t _possibly_ know. 

In your wake, you leave behind victims that don’t get back up. Both his and your victims remain lifeless. 

“They’ll get back up,” Alastor whispers. “They always do. This is Hell. No one can die again lest they fall on the blade of an angel.” 

You pop back into the hotel room. You can’t hear him speaking anymore, but that last whisper of his haunts you. 

_What did I just do?_

Your world fades out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge delay, guys! I've been super tired and working hard on summer research and studying for my comprehensive exams. 
> 
> Not to mention, I got a little stuck with how this chapter should go. I hope you like how it turned out and that the effort was worth it!


	17. Bad Apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What exactly happened during Reader's hunt?
> 
> None other than the Devil himself starts to connect the dots; if it's what it looks like, well... we'll just have to find out.

White boots gleam as they crunch over carnage stacked for miles in the Southern part of the Pentagram. 

Lucifer adjusts his collar, smiling all the while. He takes in everything around him. Blood. Fear. Everything is as it should be. Sinners are doing what they do best—cowering in the face of power. They hide their faces from him as he passes. 

He heard of Alastor’s newly claimed territory; it wasn’t uncommon for him to visit shortly after an overlord laid claim to such a stake, let alone one so massive. It was strange to him—Alastor wasn’t one to claim so much territory at once, but this whole portion of the Southern sector surrendered to him without so much as a blink. 

Lucifer, ever curious, finds himself laughing at the sight of other demons crawling out of his way. 

_Alastor must have given them quite the fright! I must compliment him the next time I see him!_

He knows full well that the Radio Demon is back at that blasted Hazbin Hotel, helping his daughter try to “redeem” sinners. Lucifer calms at the sight of everything around him. He can’t actually believe in the mission given what he sees. He knew something was up when his daughter called Lilith when a power struggle occurred a while back when it came to how the hotel should be run. 

This was confirmation that Alastor was just there for shits and giggles. This was not the work of someone who believed in second chances and mercy. 

His feet stop as he lands in the center of the carnage. 

All around him, bodies lay lifeless. He turns his head, wondering why these sinners are taking so long to regenerate. It was no secret that, in Hell, a person’s soul could be consumed by another. Alastor was infamous for his cannibalistic preferences when it came to absorbing other people’s magic. He had no doubt such things happened. But Alastor also enjoyed leaving a trail behind him of those not worth consuming. 

They were accounted for, just as always. 

Lucifer claps his hands. 

“Get up you lousy fools.” 

None were struck with an angel’s blade. The worst part about Hell wasn’t being consumed—it was the fact that, after being dealt blows that would murder on Earth, you could get back up and you would have to live with those said wounds until they recovered. Sinners everywhere had scars to prove it. They took hundreds of years to fade in some cases, depending on the damage they were dealt. 

No one stirs. 

Lucifer giggles. 

“My, you all were given _quite_ the show,” he grins even wider. 

Nothing gave him greater satisfaction than watching others suffer. After all, it wasn’t like there was anything _happy_ about Hell. There were no blue skies. No hopes. No dreams. Nothing. He inherited it long ago from his father and learned to love it. It was the only way to get by. 

“Now, get _up_ ,” he commands. 

Despite his enjoyment, the shenanigans needed to stop. 

A cold sweat breaks on his brow. 

_Why aren’t they waking?_

Lucifer bends down to the body of the sinner closest to him. He slaps them clean across the face. 

_That should do it._

When his hand connects to their skin, though, his eyes grow wide. 

Their skin is cold. 

He stands back to his feet at full attention, his spine—for the first time in years—creeping with goosebumps. _Fear_ was not something the Devil himself ever wanted to feel again. And here he is, in the streets of Hell, afraid of what just happened. 

_It’s not Extermination Day. What kinds of weapons did they use? Did Alastor just lay claim to this after they came through and not say anything?_

Lucifer would make a claim that treason was committed, but other than oppression, there were no laws in Hell. It was a dog-eat-dog world. He just happens to be top dog; something like this just can't stand. Not without him knowing it bodes no threat to him. If it does, well... that just wouldn't be pretty. Fun. But not pretty. 

No, this was something that required… _investigation._ Then further decisions could be made going forward.

Lucifer hums, putting a hand to his chin. 

“I think it’s about time I visit that little hotel of my daughter’s.” 

He cringes. He hasn’t seen his daughter since… well… he frowns. 

Regardless, this appointment can’t afford to wait. He needs to find out what went wrong here and he needs to find out soon. Before he turns on his foot to call for his limo, he notices something on the wall. Next to the image of Alastor—ever-present wherever he brings his carnage most—is the image of something _else_. 

A strange creature with antlers and a singular horn between them is a giant, blurring flash of furious light. Its mouth is stretched wide and, in the crudely drawn image, it appears to be consuming everything in sight. Shredding things to pieces. _Eating_ said pieces. 

Dots start to connect themselves; if it’s what Lucifer thinks it is, Hell is in for one rough ride. He only hopes Alastor doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, but I hope this interlude was worthwhile. Our favorite King of Hell will enter the stage now; Reader and Alastor are in for a bumpy ride for sure.


	18. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Alastor's POV. A relatively peaceful chapter, but Alastor considers the consequences of he and Reader's bloody hunt.

Y/n still slumbers in bed. You’re pacing. Never—and you mean never—have you ever felt _regret_ from going on a hunt. You enjoy the thrill of watching the light leave the eyes of your victims. You feel full as you consume the souls of everyone that dares to cross you and might serve you in future matters. 

You adore capturing those that might benefit you via deals when they beg you to escape your wrath. 

But today… everything went wrong today. 

You stare at your new spouse with awestruck bewilderment. She has no idea the impact she has just made in making a name for herself—her power and prowess would be sung from the rooftops in trembling fear by any denizen of Hell that witnessed it.

She was a gold and red blur when she consumed those creatures. 

The problem was that she _actually_ consumed them. The flesh she shredded from the bones of her victims did not regenerate. Nor did they from the victims to which you did the same. The power you feel coursing through your veins is unlike anything you’ve felt in your decades in Hell. 

She was a blinding light; you were a cascading dark. Everything the two of you touched became yours for the taking. Your powers bounced off each other like two towers. Except _now_ there would be questions. 

Your enemies will not like the sound of anything they hear. You’re fairly certain that, if you truly have the capacity to exterminate along with your wife, that you will grab the attention of the Devil himself. That’s not something you’re keen on doing. 

The notice of surrender came immediately to the hotel—it arrived shortly after you carried Y/n to your room. You cock your head to the side to appreciate her chest rising and falling as you review the letter over and over. You now own almost the entire Southern portion of the Pentagram. Even those who previously considered themselves subservient to Valentino gave up. This wouldn’t sit well with the others. 

You don’t even like the idea of being responsible to such a large parcel of land. Wonderland is really the only place you care about in Hell. It’s the most… _like you_ ….

Still, you can’t help but hum a merry tune at the thought of so many denizens of Hell finding you _that_ terrifying. Perhaps Vox and Valentino and that new girl—what was her name? You could hardly keep up anymore. You don’t involve yourself in politics. It isn’t really your style. But, perhaps they would get a clue. They would likely be more hesitant to meddle in your affairs moving forward. 

You puff your chest out and look back down at Y/n. 

“What a boon you are to me, you wonderful creature. And that’s not even the best part about you.” 

No. The best part about Y/n is the way she smiles. The way she stands up to you and, yet, has manners and remembers to be considerate and thankful for everything she gets. How bashful she acts when she receives gifts. And her laugh, though rare, is the most contagious thing you’ve ever heard. 

You shake yourself. 

“What in the nine circles?”

You’ve read about love. You know that’s what allowed you to bind yourself to her. But this was still so new to you. You still had so much to learn; you were ashamed at yourself for how brazen you were in your decision to bind her to you. 

_But what if I hadn’t?_

That thought terrifies you even more. If someone else managed to court you and discovered that sweet power of yours and how it _connected_ with them once they were bound. 

You snap your fingers and replace your bloodied suit with a pair of pajamas. You’d already done Y/n the service of getting her cleaned and into proper bedtime attire, but you were too focused on reliving what you’d seen to go to bed. It was quite late now. 

You slide in next to her and pay careful attention to the way she breathes. 

_What other secrets do you hold, dear?_

You pull her close to you so that she rests across your chest. You don’t know whether to be happy, afraid, or even disgusted at everything that happened today. 

_Maybe those sinners will get back up anyway. Maybe I’m overthinking this._

You can’t decide what to think, but Y/n has become even more-so your priority. She isn’t safe now. She can certainly hold her own, but she is a delicate pawn waiting to be played by someone who doesn’t realize that, quite rightfully, she deserves to be the queen on the chessboard. You don’t want her being manipulated—stolen from him. 

This brings a quickened fury to your veins. The thought of someone _hurting_ your sweet Daisy nearly sends you in a violent rage out of your bed. But you don’t wish to wake her. She murmurs something in her sleep—it sounds happy. You hope for her sake that it is. Everything is about to change dramatically; you can’t help but wonder what is going to happen when the blood-red sun passes beyond the horizon in the morning. You hope that it never does. 

“Alastor?”

The sound of your name being whispered so shyly causes you to freeze for a moment; when a hand traces its way up your chest you whip your head down to see that your wife is starting to wake. 

“Darling? Are you alright?”

Her eyes begin to water. 

“I killed those people, didn’t I?”

_Perhaps those murmurs were not so happy after all._

So here you find yourself in the middle of the night holding your wife, shushing her, and doing your absolute best to get her to calm down. She doesn’t remember most of the events that occurred; that much was to be expected. She was far too hungry when she went in and a first hunt is rarely remembered except in violent, bloody flashes. It’s primal. It’s beyond anything you can even begin to put to words. And hers was right on tier with any other overlord’s. 

That’s likely what your wife is now. As she sobs into your chest, she is completely unaware that people will now bow out of the way when she walks down the street—that she will command presence when she walks into a room and that tales of her carnage will become standard on every street. 

Even worse, she has no idea that she might have an ability that makes her a prime target of every high-ranking demon in Hell. 

_Myself as well now, I suppose._

You grin without meaning to at the thought of holding such awesome power. 

_Damn be the consequences, this means I have the upper hand in quite a few things._

But you know better. You won’t show those cards. You won’t let her show hers either. Hunts will be larger when they occur but much more spread out. You begin planning and scheming while you run your fingers through her hair and wipe tears from her cheeks as they find their way down. They’ll never get far. Not with you there. You’ll stop them all up; sure enough, after a while, they cease. 

Her breathing stills. She’s asleep again. 

She grips onto you for dear life in her sleep and your grin curls in a way in never has, your eyes full of nothing but content. 

_No matter what, you’re always mine, dear. We’ll figure this out. Together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> I'm considering making an Awakened thread on my author discord so you all can get more behind-the-scenes action and have more opportunities to ask me questions. It would be tied to my other works in progress that are not fanfic related since it would be on my author server as a whole, so be warned. If this is something you would like to see, please let me know in the comments! If you're interested, I can also--in future chapters--post my author social media, website, etc if you all are interested in the other works that I do.


	19. Rough Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer arrives at the hotel; Charlie is less than welcoming at the sight of her absentee Dad. What does his presence mean for Reader?
> 
> Here is my author discord link as promised! Included is an Awakened thread! 
> 
> You can hit me up with questions about chapter updates, the writing process, or even just discuss theories! 
> 
> https://discord.gg/HR3dkEa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Shorter chapter, but I hope you enjoy!

It’s the early morning when Lucifer arrives at his daughter’s hotel. His eyes are overwhelmed by the clutter of lights and decoration that still cover the hotel. It’s very reminiscent of his daughter; thus, himself. 

He stretches his smile and takes a breath before knocking at the door. He called Lilith earlier this morning but she had yet to call him back. 

_She’s always so busy._

He shrugs, knowing full well that his wife will get back to him when it’s the proper time. Right now he needs to establish himself in the hotel and get back on his daughter’s good side. He needs to speak with Alastor as much as possible about the Southern Pentagram that now lay in his more than capable claws. 

_Maybe he just got really lucky._

Lucifer placed hellhounds everywhere on the streets where the dead bodies lay; they were to alert him immediately if any one of them stirred. As of right now, the phone in his hand was cold. No calls from hellhounds and no calls from Lilith. 

The morning was already off to a bitter start. 

The door finally opens and he’s greeted by the gray moth girl that’s courting his daughter. Her one eye widens at the sight of the Devil standing at the door of the hotel he’d condemned so much in his public speeches following his daughter’s media fiasco. A hint of rage flashes in her eyes before she reluctantly lets the door swing open. 

“Dad?”

His eyes train on the face he’s missed so much in the last few years. In a moment, all of his disappointment in her melts away. Right now, he’s just happy to see his little girl. Her hesitation to come near him wrenches at his heart strings. 

“Yes, Charlotte. I’ve come to see you!” 

He stretches his arms wide and grins wildly at her. 

“Come give your old Dad a hug!” 

Charlie grimaces, standing to her feet and walking toward her father. She lightly wraps her arms around him and, before she can pull away, she’s crushed in his embrace. If anyone so much as mentions the tears in his eyes, he’ll murder them on the spot. 

Finally, he lets her go. 

“Charlotte, dear! How have things been going with your little… project…” he gestures as generously as he can at the hotel lobby. He doesn’t want to set her off. 

_There’s a time and a place for every discussion and this isn’t it._

She frowns. 

“Why do you care? Did Mom kick you out or something? If you need a place to stay I can get you a room key. Or are you here for something else?”

She puts her hands on her hips and does her best to hide the quiver in her lip. She’s hurt. Beyond hurt, really. 

It’s his fault and he knows it. He knows that look so well. It’s so much like his own that she can’t really hide how she feels from him. 

“Charlotte, dear, I’m here to see you and stay for a while. I have business to attend to, of course, but you’re my little apple fritter! That never changes,” he chuckles. 

She rolls her eyes and stalks off. He wonders if she’s going to come back when she rounds the corner to greet him with a key. 

“You have a penthouse suite on the top floor. Knock yourself out. Where’s Mom?”

He shrugs. 

“I called her to try and have her come with me but you know how busy she is with the theater!” 

He tries to hide the hurt in his chest that his daughter is so dismissive of him. He realizes with a shattering weight that he’ll have to focus on more than just Alastor and whatever creature he has with him from the posters. He’s got to convince his daughter that he still loves her. 

He can see it in her face. She knows she’s a disappointment to him. She knows that he hasn’t cared for so long. 

And now she thinks she’s not loved by her own father. 

The thought itself brings him back to memories he wishes he could erase. 

_This is going to be a very long visit. Lilith, I wish you were here to help._

“Do you mind showing me around first?”

Charlie throws her hands up in frustration. Her thread of patience snapped long ago with him. They fought all the time before she moved out and started this little hotel of hers. It’s clear to him immediately that she’s still not past that point in their lives. 

“Sure, Dad, and while I’m at it why don’t I tell you how Alastor took over and you didn’t come help? How my mission’s been blown to smithereens and my attempts to help people always get overrun by temptations that keep them falling into the ‘fiery pit of failure’ just like he wanted? I called you for help; I know you don’t agree with me, but couldn’t you at least show up to protect your own daughter? To set things straight?”

She turns on her heel. 

“I’ll have someone else come give you the tour.” 

He’s taken aback by how abrupt she’s being but, right now, he knows more than ever that he deserves it. 

“Charlotte, dear…” he reaches out to her. 

“It’s Charlie.” 

With that, she disappears. 

A few moments later, Y/n walks into the front lobby. 

“Hey, Vaggie? Have you seen Charlie? I need to ask her some que—”

She freezes. That face. 

Lucifer smiles, extending a hand. 

“Lucifer, dear. A pleasure to meet you. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”


	20. Mistakes Were Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer begins to try and question Alastor about his acquisition of such a large chunk of the Southern Pentagram; in the process, he runs into Daisy for the second time in one day. 
> 
> What will the Radio Demon think when he finds out that his wife has already met the Devil without him present?

You freeze when Lucifer asks for your name. You know you need to think fast. His visit can’t bode anything _good_ for you. Or anyone, for that matter. Charlie never speaks of him fondly; he is openly dismissive of the hotel and even more disrespectful of his daughter and her goals. 

You don’t necessarily want to go to Heaven, but you don’t want this bastard hurting your friend either. Your fur bristles a bit, but you calm it before you cause a scene. 

“Daisy.” 

You grasp his hand with assertive intent, letting him know upfront that you won’t be tolerating any nonsense. You also purposefully omit your real name. Your nickname is proving far more useful than you thought it would. You just hope that everyone catches on that you made that choice on purpose. 

Angel Dust comes walking into the room. 

“Hey, look! It’s the big guy!” He feigns a bow, purposefully letting his fluff show a bit more than usual. 

Lucifer sneers a bit at him. He is, of all things, surprisingly faithful to his wife. He doesn’t deserver her and he knows it. 

“I heard ya need the grand tour?” Angel Dust’s gold tooth sparkles under the lobby lights. Before Lucifer can protest, he’s ushered from the room, leaving you breathless and relieved that you don’t have to deal with him. 

Vaggie stares at you with something like pride. 

“You really know how to serve it up cold. Thanks for not kissing up to him like everyone else. I don’t know if you did that for Charlie or not, but he’s been a real pain in her ass.” 

“Oh definitely. I’m not gonna do anything stupid, but I’m gonna make it as clear as I can that I _don’t_ approve of him coming her to mock her or make things worse between them.” 

She nods. 

“How’s it going with you and… ya know…” Vaggie struggles to even say his name. 

“Pretty well. He’s in the kitchen making breakfast for everyone. I came out here ‘cause I sensed something was up.” 

It was true. You’d gotten a buzzing feeling in your gut and you always knew that meant something was amiss. You’re sure Alastor is bound to come racing out to find you. You know he won’t be happy that you’re out here on your own; he’ll probably be even angrier when he finds out that you spoke to the Devil himself and shook his hand. 

You swallow. You figure it’s probably best to make it back to the kitchen as fast as possible. 

You hurry, your feet barely touching the floor at the pace you’re going. When you throw open the door, you find Angel Dust and Lucifer standing and talking to Alastor. Your husband’s eyes meet yours and you feel like you’ve been shrunk down to the size of a pea. He’s a looming monster ready to devour the wayward little wendigo whole. 

You put on a smile, choosing to ignore that your impending doom is likely to hit you later. Not in front of guests, though. That would be beneath Alastor’s hospitable behavior. 

“Lucifer, this is my wife, Y/n.” 

_Shit._

“Ah, we met in the lobby. Though, she called herself Daisy. Which name is it?”

You cut Alastor a look before returning your attention to the Devil who, at the moment, is crunching on an apple. 

“I go by Daisy, but my name is Y/n. Sorry for the confusion. I just get used to everyone else calling me by my nickname.” 

You shrug, pulling up a chair to the dining room table. A plate of fresh breakfast awaits you; something about Lucifer’s gaze tells you that he knows you’ve got demon flesh in your plate. He cracks a wry grin, moving over to sit with you at the table. 

_Just when I got rid of this guy._

Angel Dust tries to sit on the other side of you but, instead, Alastor appears beside you at little more than a snap of his fingers. He won’t have his wife sit alone with the Devil. Not in his kitchen. Not in his _afterlife_. 

“So, what sin did you commit to end up here?”

You decide it’s best to come up with something, but you also guess that he’ll know a lie if he hears one. 

“Murder.” 

You shovel another forkful of food into your mouth and do your best to act like that statement doesn’t bother you. 

“I see. Who did you off?”

“I honestly don’t know. Some stranger,” you laugh. It’s a brilliant response. It’s technically _not_ a lie. Of course, Lucifer doesn’t look convinced at all. 

But he can’t press the point. Alastor sweeps in to save you. 

“What brings you to the hotel?” 

Lucifer adjusts the lapels of his suit and smiles a bit wider. He seems to know about Alastor’s perception of those that frown. 

“I’m here to check out this little project for myself. I hear that you’ve changed the message of the hotel quite dramatically.” 

Lucifer finishes his apple, giving Alastor a narrow-eyed stare. His opinion about the hotel might be jaded, but his position on defending his daughter has definitely shifted in favor of protecting her. Charlie, of course, is still nowhere in sight. But that isn’t going to stop Lucifer from trying. 

“I’ve simply added constraints to mimic a true ascension, that’s all,” Alastor quips. “What’s redemption without temptation?”

He clasps his hands together; his eyes, when they fall on you, tell you that you’re in more trouble than you could ever hope for. You can smell the lies in Lucifer’s words. He’s here for more than just “checking up” on the place. 

“So, about the Southern Pentagram—”

On cue, the oven dings. 

“Ah, I’ll have to talk to you about my recent acquisition later, Lucifer! I have foods to attend to!” 

Lucifer, you swear, grumbles under his breath. But he can’t push anymore. He won’t tarnish his reputation as a gracious guest. Of all the things he was, the Devil was NOT an ungracious house guest. 

“I appreciate your introduction earlier, Y/n. Or Daisy, I apologize. Now, where did my tour guide go to?”

Angel Dust hops to attention. He’s been sitting at the island in the center of the kitchen, stuffing spare food down his throat in the hopes of going unnoticed. You know for a fact that everyone knows he’s been doing it, but Alastor is too busy holding up his charade to say anything, which is _really_ saying something. 

“Where to next, yer highness?” 

“Anywhere you like!”

Angel Dust smirks. 

“Anywhere?”

Lucifer rolls his eyes. 

“I would suggest checking out the dining hall at this time of day. You’ll make quite an appearance to the guests and have the best idea of what this place looks like during its busy times,” you offer. 

Lucifer smiles at you. 

“Why, thank you Daisy. I hope to see you around?”

You find Alastor giving you a side-eye and swallow a lump of fear that’s settled deep in your throat and chest. 

_When did someone drop a bucket of ice on the room?_

The exchange isn’t missed by Lucifer who lets out a hearty laugh. 

“Good to meet you. Tell Charlotte I can’t wait to see her again if you get the chance.” 

With that, the Devil leaves. You never thought you would _want_ someone like Lucifer to hang around because, now, you’re stuck in the kitchen with a _very_ angry wendigo. Before you even have a chance to blink, all the kitchen doors slam and lock themselves shut. 

You’re bound to a chair and scooted across the room at lightning speed. 

“What happened to having an escort?”

The question comes out with so much static in it that you can hardly decipher it. Alastor’s eyes are dials and his form starts to become that misshapen _thing_ you saw in your room the night you were married. The night you went hunting. 

And now, you’re stuck with it again. And it really is angry with you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading; additionally, thank you for your patience! 
> 
> I've been working hard with this chapter. I know it's not super long, but for some reason the pacing and setting were really tripping me up, so I had to break it up and work on it more slowly than usual. Additionally, I've taken it upon myself to participate in Camp NaNoWriMo! I'm in the process of editing my first novel so I can, hopefully, send it to my editor around September. Once that happens, I'll be looking to publish it. 
> 
> But no worries! I have no intentions of abandoning Awakened; in fact, I find it to be a lovely escape when I get stuck on Remember the Stars. Updates may come slower since my comprehensive exams are in August and I need to study for them to do well, but that will be experienced across all of my creative outlets, so please don't take it to mean that I take this work any less seriously. 
> 
> If you haven't already, check out my Instagram @erismarriott or Facebook Eris Marriott Author. I also have an author discord which has been linked in my profile here and the chapter previously. While I can't advertise my fanfiction on my official author social medias (since they are business accounts and the algorithm might mistake me for trying to make money off my fanfiction, which I am not) it's still such a fun way for me to have more personal interactions with my readers and I am more than happy to answer DMs, messages, etc inquiring about updates for Awakened. If I get enough people in the Discord server, I'll be happy to become more interactive with sneak peeks and such there as well. 
> 
> *Whoo* That was a mouth full. Or eye full, rather. *Ba dum tss* 
> 
> Stay tuned for the next update!


	21. Explain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader tries to explain why she left Alastor's side, as well as get to the bottom of why he's been so clingy all day. What happens when she finds out what really happened when they went hunting?

“Alastor, please, let me explain,” you pout. You’re over trying to fight today. It’s not worth it. “I didn’t mean to be out of your sight like that. I didn’t sneak away to try and meet the Devil. I felt a shift in the energy in the hotel and I thought Charlie was in trouble. I wanted to go make sure she was okay.” 

The creature tilts its head to the side, its smile a bit more crooked as you continue to explain yourself. 

“Stop, Alastor. We make a lot of mistakes when we argue.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He shifts back to his normal form; that’s when you see it. There’s _hurt_ in his eyes. 

“Do you regard our marriage as a mistake?”

You shake your head. 

“No, but you even admitted that it was a mistake to scare me like you did.” 

He breathes out, almost like he’s relieved. 

_Does he really like me that much?_

He pulls up a chair and releases you from being restrained to yours. You’re not moving though. You can’t test his patience anymore today. You’ll have to toe the line, though you’re not sure why. 

“Darling,” he starts, “I can’t imagine what kinds of things he said to you in the lobby today. But, listen, what happened the other day when we went hunting… it’s not normal. We…” 

The way he’s hesitating makes you uncomfortable. 

“Alastor, I thought you said hunting was okay? Like, not morally, but… you said I had to do that for my own sake and for the sake of everyone around me. You said it was a normal way for you to take over parts of the Pentagram, too. Was there something I did wrong?”

You’re sweating now. You wonder if you jeopardized his reputation or made him look stupid. 

_Is that why he’s been on edge so much this morning?_

Truthfully, you only followed your instinct without telling him what you were doing because he’s been a wreck all morning. He practically carried you downstairs this morning and was scared to even let you go to the bathroom alone. 

“What’s on your mind, Alastor? You have to tell me what’s wrong. I know our marriage isn’t exactly… traditional… but I am your wife. You can tell me things and know that I won’t go spreading your truths. I’m here for you.” 

To your surprise, he pulls you onto his lap. It’s not a sexual moment; rather, he takes it as an opportunity to bury his head in your hair. He’s careful around your antlers to your relief. You would hate for him to accidentally stab himself. 

“My darling,” he whispers, “we managed to actually erase some people the other day. We murdered them. Truly.” 

The grip he has around you becomes much more suffocating than you ever thought it could. Your breath catches in your throat. 

“Wait, what?”

You manage to whisper the question, but your throat is choking up. “I thought you said only an angel’s blade can do that.” 

He kisses your forehead. He knows how soft you are; suddenly his closeness to you makes so much more sense. He’s been waiting for the right moment to tell you. He’s been ready to catch you when you fall like you are now. 

While you’re frustrated with him, you know it’s not his fault and you find it kind of… _sweet_? That he’s been trying to keep you safe from the truth as long as possible so he can hold you when he has to tell you is a big thing for him. 

Without thinking, you reach up to kiss him on the cheek. He stiffens at the touch, but he doesn’t show any signs of becoming that awful predator thing again. He looks down at you, his smile smaller than it’s ever been. 

“What was that for?”

“It’s to say… I love you? And I appreciate that you’ve been looking out for me like this. I take it Lucifer is really here to try and figure out what happened, huh? And you’re scared because you know that what happened… isn’t normal. Right?”

  
He nods. 

“You say you love me?”

His grin becomes more mischievous. 

“I figured you would be focusing on the fact that we murdered people, but here you are professing your feelings to me.” 

He clutches his hand to his chest. 

“I’m touched.” 

You roll your eyes, but you’re happy to see him happy again. That smile is just a mask. It doesn’t mean he’s always happy; that’s something you figured out _early_ on. 

“Listen, you dork,” you start. Tears are brimming in your eyes. He reaches to brush one from your face; you lean into his touch and he holds your head in his hands like that for quite some time. 

You sit in the silence while he wraps you up in his arms again. 

“I don’t know what to do, Alastor. I can’t eat if it’s going to kill people.” 

Alastor leans back. 

“I’m afraid that’s not an option, my love. You have to eat. It’s the only way for you to make sure you don’t kill people that don’t deserve it. You murdered rapists, pedophiles, and people who have done unspeakable things. I watched you, myself. You have the same inclinations that I do.You were cleaning up the streets.” 

“Same inclinations?”

  
“Oh, I’ve always targeted people that I think deserve it. I don’t target the innocent.”

You smile. He’s like a serial killer Batman. For a moment, you find yourself counting your lucky stars that, of all the wendigos you could have been bound to in Hell, that you ended up with this one. 

_Not that there are that many left thanks to this dork._

“So, what do we do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Alastor, Lucifer is staying here as a guest now.” 

Alastor’s eyes widen.

“Like, a guest guest?”

You laugh at how improper the question sounds. It’s so out of line for your husband to say things like that. 

“My dear, this is no laughing matter. If he’s here to stay, we’re going to have to figure out alternative arrangements.” 

Your smile drops. You see that it bothers him, but you can’t help yourself. This isn’t anything that you were prepared for. 

“How are we going to handle this?”

He grips your hands.

“I don’t know, my little Daisy. I don’t know.” 

He pulls you back into his arms. 

  
“I will keep you safe with everything I have in me, do you understand? But you really can’t leave my side now. I hate to treat you like a caged animal, but… he would do far worse to you if he knew what you were capable of.” 

The door to the kitchen opens; Charlie steps in, tears streaming down her face. 

“What is she capable of, Alastor?”

You both freeze. 

You’re in deep trouble now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope all my American readers had a lovely Fourth of July! 
> 
> Thank you all for your continued readership!


	22. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will Alastor and Y/n explain to Charlie everything she just heard?
> 
> Warning: Some heavier romantic things might be ahead ;)

Charlie stares at you, the mascara on her eyes streaked down her cheeks from crying. She wipes a bit of it off with her sleeve—hardly the level of decorum you would expect from a princess. She sniffles, her face kind but filled with worry.

“Y/n, what happened the other day?”

You feign innocence, still unsure of everything that you did anyway.

“I… I don’t know…”

You struggle to find something to say—anything. It’s too hard for you to wrap your mind around at the present moment. How can you? How can you think of anything? How can you explain that you’re a raging cannibal who can’t even remember when she creates carnage so devastating that even Alastor struggles to speak of it?

“My dear, I think it’s best if these questions remain unanswered for the time being,” Alastor breaks in. For once, you’re grateful for the interruption. He’s far more eloquent than you when it comes to stuff like this.

Your heart does a flip when he grabs at your hand and your cheeks burn a little.

_Since when do I care so much about when he does that?_

He seems not to notice, his gaze fixed on the princess. You wish he would look down at you and tell you everything is okay. But everything is _not_ okay. You now have to worry about the King of Hell roaming about the hotel.

“I heard there was a lot of destruction in the Southern part of the Pentagram the other day,” Charlie crosses her arms; she’s not finished. She’s not going to let the two of you bury your secrets so easily.

You shrug, doing your best to convey as much ignorance as possible. Guilt stains your veins and face, though. It’s obvious to everyone you won’t be hiding any bodies with much success—not any time soon, anyway. You wonder how Alastor got away with all the murders he committed while he was alive. How he manages to keep so much composure about him when talking about such grisly details is beyond you.

For now, you just bury your head in your husband’s side. You wish you hadn’t rolled out of bed this morning. Now you have to face the music. And you’re not even sure what tune is going to be played.

“Charlie, listen,” you start, but Alastor wraps a hand around your mouth. He glares down at you, his smile an utter joke. He’s not happy; you hope he’s not angry with you and just at the situation at large. Though, his grip on you is gentle enough to tell you you’re not in as deep a sea of waters as you might think.

_Hopefully._

“With all due respect, Charlie, now isn’t the time to talk about what happened. My wife and I need to have some time alone to worry about these things. When and _if_ we’re ready, we will tell you all that you need to know. But, for right now, I ask that you keep this between us. I’m sure you know that your father won’t take to kindly to disruptions of the sort that you’re referring to.” 

Charlie doesn’t seem convinced, her face scrunched up in confusion. But she just shakes her head, deciding it’s best to just let things go. It’s what she does best.

“Fine. You alright, Y/n?”

You swallow a lump in your throat, being careful not to let your voice crack now that you have the floor to speak again.

“Yeah… I’m fine. Your dad is… interesting.”

Charlie chuckles at this, though it’s a hollow one. She’s angry and you can only hope she doesn’t direct any of it at you. If you could tell her and ask questions about what happened, you would. But you don’t even know what to tell her about what happened in the first place.

“He’s certainly not like me. That’s for sure. Well, sorry to interrupt you both. I didn’t know I was intruding.”

It’s then that you hear the hurt in her voice. You reach out to her without thinking, but she’s gone before you can say anything else. Your web of lies is tying you up with sadness. You look up at Alastor, his image blurring from the tears forming in your eyes.

“I… I think I need to go.”

“To where?”

He moves in front of you to keep you from escaping his view. You try to push him out of the way, but he stops you by picking you up and scooping you into his arms.

“I… I don’t know. Put me down,” you plead. “I can’t… I can’t keep doing this. I’m just hurting people. I hurt Angel Dust. Now Charlie. And apparently a bunch of other people; people that won’t get up ever again. And now the King of Hell is here and we’re in deep shit.”

You’re sobbing.

Alastor doesn’t put you down, instead cradling you to his chest and sighing.

“You’re not really cut out for violence, are you?”

You let out something like a laugh, though it’s choked by your crying.

“You think?”

“Look, darling, I understand this is all difficult for you to understand, but I can’t have you spilling your secret to the King’s daughter. He’s here because he perceives a threat. Only he is supposed to be able to erase citizens outside of Extermination Day. He’s a fallen angel. For us to have been… _capable_ … of such carnage is unheard of.”

You swear you see a gleam of… _joy_ … in his eyes when he mentions the blood-fest you all created together. It makes your stomach lurch. You wonder if you’ll be able to keep yourself from retching; you’re not about to do it while he’s holding you though. You don’t think he’ll be too happy to have vomit all along his suit.

“So what do we do?”

Alastor carries you out into the foyer. With breakfast duties done, you know that he’s likely to bring you upstairs and make you learn more things about Wendigo biology and your new powers and all the things you wish would go away.

“We keep training and learning in private. You say nothing to anyone, do you understand? _Both_ of our lives are at stake now,” he whispers.

It’s so jarring to hear him lower his tone to the point where it’s almost inaudible. It seems… _wrong_ … you know you are in some serious trouble for him to lower himself to anything less than center-stage.

You dip your head in silence, nausea still waving over you.

“I suppose our little _deer_ had too much to eat the other day?”

Alastor throws his head back and, as though it never left, that staccato laughter is back. He winks at you; you do your best to smile through the pain and play along.

When you reach your room, you’re surprised that he lays you down on the bed. He snaps his fingers and you hold back a shriek when you find your clothes replaced with flannel pajamas. It’s cold in Hell this time of year; you’re glad for the comfort of a thicker fabric. However, you’re not sure you’ll ever be used to his random spurts of magical prowess. He’s more than an enigma to you.

You watch with silent fascination as he plucks more books from the shelves.

“Uh, Alastor?”

He hums in response.

“Shouldn’t I be learning to _use_ magic?”

He turns to look at you, a wild grin plastered on his face—wider than usual. That tells you immediately that you’re in trouble. He’s _scheming_. You swallow the fear rising in your chest—you’ve had enough discomfort for a day. Can’t he see that? Can’t he just be normal?

You almost choke on a laugh at the thought of Alastor being something along the lines of normal. It would make you worried for him, not relieved.

“Darling, should you learn how to clean a gun and how it works before you shoot it, or just start wildly pointing it at people and pulling the trigger?”

You cross your arms.

“Well, first of all, I wouldn’t point a gun at someone in the first place. That’s not particularly safe; it’s just plain rude.”

Alastor laughs.

“Says the woman who just _ate_ many a damned soul here in Hell.”

You glare at him and, to your surprise, he almost looks remorseful for bringing that up.

_Does he actually care when he hurts my feelings?_

He is your husband after all. You want to talk to him about that more. Your _feelings_. You know he won’t want to. It’s not something he’s comfortable with and he’s already probably been more than confused at actually feeling affection for someone, no less someone he would normally consume.

Though, in this light while he’s laughing and grabbing books upon books, you can’t deny your attraction to him. But what can you do about it? Nothing. You wouldn’t dare poke the grizzly… deer demon. He would have to take initiative if he wants something like that.

“We are reading so you better understand _what_ you are before you start taking more action. What we did the other day was out of necessity; now that our appetites are satiated, we have more time to think about our next steps and be more refined in our actions. Granted, there is much I have yet to learn specifically about our… _circumstances…_ ”

“You mean you don’t know all that much about wendigo marriages.”

He almost grimaces a bit, though that smile stays ticked upwards toward the sky. You wonder if it ever falls. Almost certainly never. It would have to be something catastrophic to make him lose that wonderful poker face of his.

_Wonderful? What is wrong with me._

As he slides over next to you on the bed, handing you a book, you feel your cheeks get flush with… desire? You hide your face from him, mumbling something like a thanks before taking the book and propping it open.

Minutes pass.

“Are you ever going to get past page one?”

You look over to find him blinking at you with something like curiosity.

“Yeah, sorry. Got lost in thought….”

You start turning pages, ever fascinated by how fast you can read now. But Alastor isn’t done playing his game with you. A set of claws find their way to your shoulder, gently placing themselves there.

“Are you okay? I know I make light of things, but I also know that it’s a lot to take in… everything that you have. You’re not a particularly violent thing. Only when provoked. It only occurred to me how innocent you are when you would only kill people you saw as a threat to innocents. I… I don’t like that I’ve had to corrupt you.”

You wonder if someone else has taken Alastor’s place. You wonder if Lucifer is possessing him right this moment to try and deceive you into saying something stupid.

His head is tilted to the side; he regards you with such an innocent face it’s hard to remember that he’s a raging lunatic.

Without thinking, you do something stupid.

Your lips reach his. You pull back, your face stained red with shame.

“S-sorry, I—”

To your surprise, he pulls you back in. In this moment, nothing else matters but the raging fire that’s pounding in your lips and chest. Your eyes shoot open a moment with surprise when you feel his tongue.

Just as you start to match his pace and things start to heat up, a knock sounds at the door. As if startling him from a trance, Alastor shoots up and throws you back on the bed. You almost hit the headboard, groaning as you fall.

_Well, there went any progress we were making on that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Qualifying exams are on the horizon; I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter out as well as any future delays that are likely to arise due to my studying requirements. 
> 
> In any case, let me know what you think; stay tuned!


	23. Fire in the Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~*~ Alastor's POV ~*~ 
> 
> Who was knocking at the door? And why is there a fire in the hotel?

The door opens; Angel Dust is waiting on the other side. You growl.

_How dare he interrupt… whatever that was with my wife._

You’re still not sure what came over the little creature. She’s never been one to be so assertive or demonstrative in her Afterlife. And you’ve been there since the _beginning_. You wonder if she was like that when she was alive. The thought of anyone else touching her makes your blood boil.

The last thing you need is an arachnid to add fuel to that fire.

“What do you need, Angel?”

“Ooo, testy. We weren’t gettin’ feisty in here, were we?”

You glare at him, keeping your signature smile but letting it portray more of the dangerous things you have in mind when it comes to dealing with him. But you know this would upset your lovely wife.

Whom you just _threw_ onto the bed. You don’t flinch, but internally, you want to slap yourself. How could you have been so callous? Were you that ashamed to be caught in your darling’s arms? It unsettles you. She deserves to be pampered—loved.

You shake yourself. You can’t let your resolve dissipate in a moment so important, such as this. Angel wouldn’t come and disturb you unless it was incredibly important.

“No, Angel, we were not ‘getting feisty’ as you put it. I came up here to help her become more acquainted with her demon form.”

Angel Dust hums, waggling his eyebrows.

“Kinky.”

It takes everything in you not to slap him with your microphone at this point, but you manage to keep your resolve. Another score for holding on to whatever strip of humanity you have left. It’s thin, but it’s kept alive—especially by the little doe behind you who’s sitting up and rubbing herself to check for any bruising after having been cast aside so roughly. You wish you were the one there to check on her.

“Is there a point to this Angel?”

“Uh, yeah. Lucifer’s been scaring the guests downstairs. I brought him to see them in the dining room and he’s been threatening them and asking people about a ‘monster’ in the Southern Pentagram. You wanna go deal with that?”

Your veins feel like ice; you’re never afraid but, in this moment, there’s an exception. The apple freak _does_ know then. Which is all the more reason to have your guard up. You have to intervene—you know this. But you can’t have your wife anywhere near him. They can’t interact at all.

“I’ll go settle this.”

You turn to your wife, offering her a more apologetic smile for your earlier actions.

“Do you mind staying here for a bit, darling? Grab a book or two and start taking notes. I’ll be back.”

She nods; you thank your lucky stars that she’s more understanding than most. She doesn’t even look angry. You openly wince in front of her; you notice the look of concern pass through her face and curse yourself. You’ll have to make up for your transgressions later.

Right now, the Devil is downstairs terrorizing your patrons in a place that’s supposed to offer at least a thin veil of safety, no matter how fake. Your show can’t be interrupted.

You shut the door to your room, silently praying that your wife will have common sense and stay put. That it isn’t a trap and you won’t come back to find her missing. You’d be devastated to find her gone.

And that exchange earlier… you’d wanted that to continue. How far, you’re not sure. But it would have been nice to have had the opportunity to know. She is your wife, after all.

When you reach the lobby, everything is in chaos. A few demons rush to you, hoping for refuge from the infamous Radio Demon. You aren’t one who likes to be touched, so you brush those fools aside. They know better. Still, you pity them. Many of them bear scars that tell you that the Devil has now resorted to violence.

In the dining room, you find him eating a funnel cake. He’s peaceful at this point. The world around him is on fire--literally--and he doesn’t have a care in the world about it. At the sight of Alastor, he looks up and smiles, beckoning him to join.

“Would you like one?”

He gestures to the nasty plate of sugary disgust in front of him and you wave your hands.

“No, no. I’m not one for sweets.”

You keep your smile as genuine as possible, but you’re sure that he’s picked up on your irritation at this point.

“Your highness, might I ask _why_ you’re terrorizing the patrons here?”

He laughs. He has the audacity to laugh at his recklessness. His hospitality is poor and his demeanor earlier is shattered.

“My daughter needs to learn that redemption isn’t possible.”

_Ah, so it’s his daughter. Charlie. I wonder…._

“Why did you decide that now, of all times, was a good time to come in here and tell her that? This project has been under way for quite some time… why now?”

Lucifer smirks in his direction, snapping at another bite of funnel cake.

_Does he have no decorum?_

“She’s distant from me. I want her to see that I still care but that she has consequences she must face for being the black sheep of the family. Why couldn’t she have chosen theater or something that would benefit the royal image?”

You take note of the glass next to him. You wonder how many drinks he’s managed to finesse from Husker. It doesn’t take much to bribe your assistant. You’ll have to speak with him later about avoiding the Devil’s demands. You can’t have Lucifer himself drunk in this hotel when he’s still carrying so much baggage. You decide to change the subject.

“Did you find your room to your liking?”

“Haven’t even made it up there. Say, where’s your little wife?”

You avoid the urge to hurl yourself at him when he even brings her up. She’s _yours_. No one else’s.

“She’s resting.”

You leave it at that. You’re not going to give him the slightest hint that your wife is the monster he seeks. You wonder why he hasn’t brought it up. He has to be suspicious of you.

“Why? It’s midday?”

“Yes, and her transition didn’t happen but a few days ago. She’s still getting used to her demonic form.”

You give her the best appearance of innocence and weakness as possible, but your face says it all.

_Touch her and I will do my best to bring an uprising against you and bring this place crumbling to the ground. I can kill now._

He doesn’t know that last part, though you’re sure he suspects your involvement. After all, you’re now the overlord of _quite_ the section of Hell. You swept in and took from even your toughest of enemies. It makes you worry for your little doe. You know it won’t be long before Vox or Valentino or even Velvet will come knocking at your door. She’ll have to be ready to fight. You want her to be strong enough.

You catch Lucifer watching you. He knows you’re thinking about something important, else you wouldn’t be so lost in thought.

“Is she struggling?”

“No, she’s not struggling. She’s just getting used to things.”

Lucifer squints at you, but you maintain your poker face.

“Your majesty, do you find the drinks here to your liking?”

You decide to be a bit cheeky. You were, after all, raised by a woman known for having plenty of southern sass. You learned from the best.

Lucifer hiccups. A telltale sign of one too many drinks.

“I do find them to my liking. Where is my daughter?”

He lets himself slip and you see your opportunity.

“Not sure. She was rather… _angry_ … earlier. I’m not sure where she went to, but she seemed more than bothered ever since you arrived this morning.”

Lucifer actually lets himself frown in that moment. You know better than to see _him_ as weak for doing so. He’s the king for a reason. Still, you relish in this little victory in having shaken the Devil’s own casual, smiling demeanor.

“I must go find her,” he announces.

He goes to stand, but he’s swaying. You know what this is about—even more than the new monster threatening Hell. This is about his relationship with Charlie. He wants to be close to his daughter. It’s something you can capitalize on to distract him.

“Why don’t you get settled in your room first. I’m sure you can find her later. I’ll let her know what’s happened here and let her find you since you’re a bit out of sorts. We can’t have the guests seeing this, you know.”

Lucifer looks openly offended at this.

“Are you— _hic_ —saying I can’t hold my liquor?”

Alastor shakes his head.

“No, but I am saying that others might get that kind of idea. You don’t need any unnecessary pests bothering you, do you?”

Lucifer nods, his eyes glassy. The drinks won’t wash away his pain.

You help him to his feet, knowing full well that he really _can’t_ hold his drinks. He’s an amateur at best; it doesn’t help that the proofs in Hell are high and he’s… not tall or built like the other demons. The drinks will hit him harder than most. It’s simple biology and chemistry. If he knew anything about the workings of the body….

Even angels would be susceptible, if not more-so. It’s a foreign object even more-so to them.

  
On the way up to the penthouse sweet, you hear him mumble.

“What’s that, your majesty?”

“You let me know if you find that monster. I’ve got _quite_ the punishment in mind for it if I meet it.”

It chills you to the bone while, at the same time, ignites a fire in your chest.

_How dare he threaten my wife._

You’re a master at hiding your emotions, though you’re sure a glint of rage was present just then in your eyes. They didn’t become radio dials, though. That’s the one saving grace in this equation.

Before you make it to his room, Charlie steps out in the hall.

“Alastor, what—?"

She catches sight of her drunken father.

“Charlie!”

The sound of the name she prefers stops her in her tracks. She quickly realizes the situation and groans.

“Sorry, my dear, your father was a bit rough with the guests and I went down to check on him. I figured he must’ve gotten lost on the way to his room. Very distressing, I’m sure, so I wanted to ensure he made it up here okay. Do you mind taking him the rest of the way? I have to go put out the fires in the lobby.” 

You hold back a laugh.

“You set fire to the lobby?!”

She crosses her arms, looking very much like her mother in that moment. She may have her father’s attributes, but her expressions are very much like Lilith’s.

“I’m sorry— _hic_ —honey. I got carried away,” he slurs. “I just missed you so much. I wanted you to see how sad this project makes me.”

“How sad it _makes you_? How about abandoning me? How about leaving me to fend for myself? How about basically disowning me?”

She looks to you with so much fire in your eyes it makes you a bit nervous, but you don’t let anyone see that. Instead, you slide Lucifer over onto Charlie’s shoulder. You allow yourself a moment to give her a look.

“I need to get things under control so I can get back to Y/n. I need to make sure she’s okay.” 

Charlie’s expression changes. She understands the message. You only hope she doesn’t bring up the conversation in the kitchen earlier. It’s not enough to betray your wife, but with the Devil’s current state of volatility… it might be enough to get the dogs sniffing at your door. And you _hate_ dogs.

“I’ll take care of things.”

With that, you take your leave. You don’t stay around to hear what goes on behind you. That’s between father and daughter. Right now, you need to go calm some guests down so you can bring back the calmness that usually fills the hotel. And then you have to make dinner. And make up your earlier actions to your wife with some kind of recompense.

It’s a laundry list longer than you’ve ever had in your life. And you’re desperate to finish it. You hate the idea of Y/n being alone. Your heart lurches; it’s not a normal feeling. It occurs to you—you _miss_ her.

_That little, vexing creature… what have you done to me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another update! Might be a while before the next one--it just depends. Studying is going to be my life for the next two weeks, at the very least. I hope you enjoy!


	24. The Danger of Sitting Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor and Y/n realize that they're playing a game far more dangerous and involved than they thought. Who can they trust? And what can they do to protect themselves now that the King of Hell is a guest at their hotel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone!
> 
> **Note, there are some hints at past abuse in this chapter. If that makes you uncomfortable, be forewarned and feel free to skip this chapter.**
> 
> Yes, I am alive! I apologize for the huge hiatus I ended up taking. I appreciate all the reads/comments/kudos I have gotten during my absence--they have not gone unnoticed. 
> 
> Good news: I passed my exams! 
> 
> My semester is fast-paced and requires a lot of me, so I can't promise consistency of updates, but I am resolved to be more committed to my writing, both here and everywhere. Believe me when I say every one of my creative outlets have suffered a hiatus I never intended to take. 
> 
> In any case, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

You’re aching for Alastor to return when he finally throws open the door to your room. You don’t know why, but every moment you spend without him becomes agonizing. You don’t know why but, while reading, you’ve grown nauseous. Your head hurts a bit from being thrown onto the bed and you wish you could just talk to him about what happened.

But it’s clear by the strain in his smile that something else is going on. You take a big whiff and immediately take note of the scent of brimstone—fire….

“Honey? Are… are you okay?”

You broach the subject carefully; you wonder in that moment if he’d ever hurt you. On instinct, you flinch when he turns to you. His eyes widen and his smile softens as he closes the gap between you both.

“Darling, I am more than fine. Lucifer set fire to the lobby and I had to put it out. He had too much to drink and I had to step in.”

You nod as he places a hand to your cheek. You lean into it; you’re not sure why—it just feels natural. In that moment you close your eyes and try to ignore the impending danger facing you both. If Lucifer catches on, it’s clear that he’s not stable. You’ll both be fried and there’s so much left to learn that you don't want to miss out on.

Your eyes slide up and meet his.

“Why did you flinch?”

You shrug.

“Force of habit,” you mumble.

You don’t want to bring those demons back out of the closet—pardon the horrible pun. You can still hear your mother’s screams. Your father’s violent outbursts. It’s something you keep repressed and you’re not ready to let those things out into the open again. You’re too shaky as it is.

“Did someone hurt you? I need names,” he presses on.

In that moment, you can’t help but chuckle, the darkness temporarily shut away.

“No. Just bad memories,” you mumble.

He nods; he seems to know that the topic would be better approached later. Instead, he turns on his heel and turns his attention to the bookshelf.

“Have you had any luck in reading?”

You shake your head; you realize he’s still not facing you and speak up.

“I’ve been reading since you left to handle Lucifer and I can’t find anything to explain what’s going on.”

Alastor laughs.

“Dear, when I said to read, I meant to enjoy yourself. My tomes aren’t going to carry any of the information we seek. What did you end up finding?”

You grumble something inaudible; he puts a hand to one of those tufts on his head.

_So those are ears, then. But I have them… why didn’t I know that? Why is that so weird to me, still?_

Without realizing it, you’re running a hand along yours to still the strands of fur that have stood on end in memory of the terrible things you’ve read while he was away. Torture methods. Dark spells. Things you wish you could unsee.

You hum a bit, unsure of how to respond.

He laughs again, pulling other books from his shelves.

“I think you might enjoy these instead. We’ll make a plan to go to some of the darker corners of Hell together tomorrow to find answers about what’s going on. I have some connections….”

You force a smile at him and take a look at the books he’s selected. You can’t help but stifle a grin. They’re happy books. Fairytales. 

_He knows._

You’re just not cut out for the carnage like he is; the fact that he respects that means all the world to you and more. You throw your arms around him, the books tumbling to the floor.

“I missed you,” you whisper.

You don’t like being vulnerable, but your heartstrings have been tugged to roughly today. You worried all day about him and were overwhelmed by all the darkness you wrapped yourself in within the pages of his more horrible tomes.

He’s stiff to the touch and you want to throttle Angel Dust all the more for interrupting your earlier, much softer moment. But it was going too fast, you realize. You don’t really know much about the creature you’re holding onto. You want to, though. You want to trust him and open up.

_He’s the only one that seems to have a clue._

Slowly but surely, he relaxes into your grip. He lowers his head onto yours, careful not to prick himself on your own little antlers. You both sway back and forth a bit before he pulls back, his smile strange and foreign—you think twice about stepping back. You don’t want him to think twice about the “people that hurt you” that he was ready to hunt down earlier. You don’t want to have to explain.

“Will you read with me?”

His eyes seem distant; at first, he doesn’t respond. For a moment, you catch a glimpse of that monster that you’ve seen one too many times. You swallow something like an ice cube lodged in your throat and wait with bated breath for him to speak. To respond. To do _something_.

You smile, despite your urge to flee the room. You wish your emotions would make their mind up. Right now, you feel like a locomotive out of control and ready to leave the rails.

“Honey, what actually happened with Lucifer?”

This time, his eyes slide to you. His pupils are still dials but, for once, you realize they’re not the focus of his rage.

“He’s onto us, darling. We’re going to have to play a very delicate game. I don’t think the hotel is safe for us, anymore. Not right now. We’re going to have to move.”

The resolution is startling. Your mind, struggling to keep up, tries to come up with a coherent response. You find one.

“Won’t he be suspicious if we do that? That’s practically admitting guilt.”

Alastor shakes his head.

“We won’t do it all at once. We’ll present it in some sort of advertisement atmosphere. That’s all I can think to do.”

What scares you most about this is that this reveals to you that _he’s_ scared. Granted, you’re both planning to outwit the Devil—not something that should be done. And his daughter knows more than she should. It’s a dangerous game to be playing; you both silently exchange a glance that reveals you’re both on the same page, whether it’s spoken aloud or not.

“We need to talk to Charlie. Later. And we need to do it somewhere else.”

“Maybe we should show her?”

You blurt the option out and cover your mouth as soon as you’ve spoken.

He looks at you like you might have suggested passing out Bibles to sinners on the local street. But you’re determined.

“She knows something is wrong. She’s going to hear about this from her father. But she needs to know more or else she’ll feel like we’re… hiding stuff from her.”

Alastor laughs, his chortles more staccato than usual.

“And what, pray tell, happens if she makes up with her father?”

You break out into a thin sweat, realizing the implications of such a reality.

“He’s here to make amends and persecute us, darling. I’d ordinarily say that would be a good idea; I realize what you’re saying. But right now? The only people that can know the details are the ‘double-dead,’ as Angel would call them, and ourselves. We can only hope, at this point, that the dead _will_ speak. As long as they remain silent, we remain in our predicament.”

You don’t realize it, but you’re shaking. He removes his jacket, sliding it about your shoulders.

“Why didn’t you say you were cold?”

Tears have welled up in your eyes; you want to hex them away, but you know better.

“I’m not.”

His smile becomes thin, as though it might break. He embraces you again, tucking you close to him like he might lose you in the wind.

“It’s okay, darling. We’ll figure this out. For better or for worse, we will stick together through this. Just promise me: never leave my side unless I say so. At least until we have a better grip on our little delusion that we’re putting on display. There’s so much at stake. I know you love your freedom and I admire that; right now, neither of us is safe alone.”

You nod into his chest.

You stay like this forever. The books stay on the floor when you finally retire for the night. As you drift into sleep, you clutch onto him with the childlike hope that this will all resolve itself. But you know better.


	25. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor and (Y/N) come up with a plan on how to move out without catching Lucifer's attention. But will it be foolproof enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the radio silence everyone! (Pun intended; you hear Alastor's laugh track somewhere in the background). 
> 
> School took a huge toll on me this semester; right at the end, one of my favorite professors died. I had a COVID scare of my own along with a lot of things that have been holding me up. 
> 
> I hope you all can forgive me; I hope to be updating more regularly now. I have not forgotten about this lovely fanfiction and it is NOT discontinued. Updates are just sporadic as of late; for that, I apologize.

You groan, red light streaming through the window. It occurs to you, after several seconds, that you’re wrapped up in the embrace of another being. The dull static that crackles from their chest tells you at once that it’s Alastor; worse yet, both of you have slept in. You ignore the implications of this. Right now, you want to disappear in his arms and become lost in his scent—when he’s not covered in the blood of his victims, he smells like a warm kitchen and a copse of pine trees. You’re not sure how he can be both at the same time, but it’s oddly fitting.

The static gets louder; you realize his breathing has changed. He’s awake. You lift your head to his, your eyes locking in on his. The soft glow they emit threatens to lull you back to sleep, but the dangerous smile that plasters itself on his face sends a shiver down your spine. The reality of everything from the day before hits you like a train; the way he clutches you closer to him tells you that Alastor knows, too, that things are about to get even more dangerous for the both of you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“For what?”

Curious, you pull away a bit; you realize that you’ve actually baffled him. With an apology, no less.

“If I hadn’t come here and gotten you all so mixed up and… if I hadn’t gotten so hungry and been so stupid… Now we’re both in danger and it’s all my fault.” Tears are falling from your eyes; you try to wipe them away but he beats you to it.

He places a gentle kiss to your lips. It’s quick; you yearn for more. You can tell he might ordinarily indulge you by the look in his eyes, but you both know that there might be eyes watching.

_Cock-blocked by Lucifer himself. Who knew?_

“You have nothing to be apologizing for, my dear,” Alastor interrupts your lustful thoughts with his usual gentlemanly tenor. You smile at him, a small blush dusting your cheeks.

“I do love when you dress yourself appropriately,” he teases, grabbing at your cheek with his fingers. “As much as I would love to keep sitting here with you, I believe we had a plan when we went to bed.”

You nod.

“I’ve been thinking… to avoid suspicion from Lucifer… how do we make moving away look like a good idea?”

Alastor hums a bit, putting a finger to his chin. Before he can say anything else, an idea strikes you.

“Uhm, Alastor, where did you live before? Like, before the hotel?”

  
Alastor laughs; it’s a relief to hear that staccato break from reality shake you. The darkness would readily consume you both were it not for humor like his. You can’t believe that it was such a short time ago that you couldn’t bear to let him touch you, let alone trust him. Now? He’s a lifeline. A partner in crime that knows way more about you than anyone else—maybe even yourself with the way he can break into your dreams.

“My little Daisy, how could you not have asked by now? I live in Cannibal Corner. I have a radio tower that I broadcast from when I’m not looking for acts to report on from the streets,” he grins. There’s a glint in his eyes that reminds you that he is, after all, a powerful overlord.

“And you left because you were bored?”

Alastor doesn’t respond, instead getting lost in what you’re sure are terrible, dark thoughts and memories about his time in the radio tower.

“Hell to Alastor, we have a bigger problem on our hands than sifting through your sick memories of torturing people,” you roll your eyes. Alastor feigns being hurt, placing a slanted hand over his forehead and pouting his lip—while smiling no less.

_That has to hurt. To constantly be smiling like that has to hurt. How?_

You don’t have much time to dwell on it before he puts on the full theatrics.

“My lovely wife can’t accept me for who I am. Here am I, the great Radio Demon, putting my Afterlife on the line to try and find a way to save us both and she must accost me for my sinful pleasures. Woe be unto me!”

You’re laughing before you can stop yourself. You’re quite certain that the kitchen downstairs is probably run amok with hungry patrons and very confused hotel staff. But you don’t care. This is _your_ husband. He owes nothing to anyone. In fact, they owe _him_.

_Since when did you get to be so protective of him?_

“Why don’t we go to the radio tower? Why don’t you do what you did while you were alive? Broadcast the hotel.”

Alastor quits his show, a bit of irritation in his eyes.

“That was a beautiful performance, love, sorry. I’m just thinking.”

And that’s enough to wipe the irritation away. You plant a kiss on his lips just to make sure the message is received. Pulling away before things get heated, you run your fingers through his jagged hair cut and smile even wider.

“Darling, you saw how well that went on the picture show… why would I put my reputation on the line like that? It’s one thing to _be_ at the hotel for entertainment. But to advertise it as though it could work? And let me ask you: how easy would it be for Lucifer to say I’m committing some form of treason if I speak out against his daughter’s project in such a public way? I’m an overlord, for Hell’s sake. I have to be very… particular… in how I do things down here. There’s politics in everything.”

  
You squint, wishing things could be more simple.

“Wait… what if we use the marriage thing? People go on honeymoons, right? What if we go on a honeymoon and just phone and say we won’t be coming back save on special occasions? We did tell Charlie we would get married here. I feel like we’ve been waiting far too long for that little detail to fall into place. It’ll be perfect—a way for everyone to see us publicly united, a way for us to appear ‘normal’—if such a thing exists here. And also a way to justify why we would want to be alone.”

Alastor raises an eyebrow.

“You want to go on a honeymoon?”

_Of course he focuses on that part._

His grin gets ever-wider. “Why, darling, that sounds like a _lovely_ idea.” He slips an arm around you. “And then to say we prefer the privacy of it. How truthful! How wonderful! And an excellent plan forged none other than by my own wife!”

You laugh as he keeps you in his grasp. He clutches onto you a bit longer than you expect.

“So… do we go downstairs and say what we’re up to? We never gave Charlie an official date for when we want to get married. We can’t do it too soon or too late. Do you have any ideas?”

“Whenever you wish, my love,” he humbles. The way the static bounces from his voice betrays his fear. Spending all this time with him has made the nuances of his being so much easier for you to understand. And for him to be so vulnerable with you….

“How do you think Lucifer will react?” Your voice is a whisper. You don’t want to trigger any unwanted attention. You swear that crazy ringmaster-looking creature can probably hear through them if his name is spoken aloud.

“He’s a fan of things like this. Balls. Circuses. Carnivals. Lu-Lu World is his own creation, you know.” Alastor pulls away again; you wish he could just hold you forever. That things didn’t have to be so complicated.

“Lu-Lu World?”

“Never mind that right now,” Alastor says with a wave of his hand. “If we want to be able to move out and use the honeymoon as a guise, we can’t give anyone any hints that we’re leaving and doing so _permanently_. Our act will have to be believable—completely. No slip-ups. If either of us gets caught, the other needs to fabricate a story and fast. Or we admit defeat and we have to own up to that of which we are now capable.”

His voice is low; his eyes are ablaze again with something else you can’t quite put your finger on. _I guess I don’t know him as well as I think I do._

Granted, he’s how much older than you at this point? It doesn’t matter in Hell, but with age does come wisdom. You glance at those sharp teeth of his.

_And I suppose age comes with psychopathy._

Outside your door, you hear screeching. It sounds like Vaggie. Alastor snaps his fingers and you’re both in your daily attire. You reach the door; sure enough, Vaggie is standing outside and waving a frying pan in Angel’s face. Angel looks over and sees the both of you standing there and starts chuckling.

“So that’s where my chef was! Getting it on with toots!”

Alastor raises a hand to slap him but you reach out and grab his hand. “Not necessary. We were not getting it on. We were talking about our big announcement! But that can come after breakfast. I’m sure you’re all super hungry!”

Right now, your stomach remains quiet after your feeding. You hope it stays that way long enough for you and Alastor to make sure what happened last time to _never_ happen again.

“You betcha! And what big announcement?”

You wink at Alastor before turning back to Angel. “You’ll see.”


	26. A Hitch in Getting Hitched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/n and Alastor announce their plans to get married. Lucifer has other ideas on how things should proceed.

It seems like everyone has gathered in the kitchen; a big announcement from the Radio Demon and his wife seems to be enough to spread rumors quick and true through the whole hotel. Lucifer himself seems to be bouncing in his seat in the kitchen. The guests wait outside, though you know that they’re waiting for someone to recap whatever happens in the kitchen to them.

But for now, you’re with faces familiar. It crushes you to see how forlorn Charlie looks. A few sparing glances at her dad remind you of how strained their relationship is. You want to console her, but you know now is not the time or place.

Instead, you catch your breath and take a few minutes to think about what you’re going to say. Alastor beats you to the chase.

“Charlie, my dear, do you remember when my Daisy and I expressed interest in getting married at the hotel? To drum up business and have a more formal ceremony?”

Those bright yellow eyes of hers spark to life at the mention of it; she nods enthusiastically. Before she can respond, Alastor fills the air with more of his words and resounding presence. You wonder how he manages to just keep going on like he does. Knowing the stakes. But you remember what he asked of you. To back him up. _No_ slip-ups. You can’t afford them if either of you want to live.

“We would like to go ahead and make arrangements for that ceremony. Post-haste!”

Lucifer giggles. “A shotgun wedding? Why, Alastor, you can’t get anyone pregnant and your darling here can’t bear children, either. Why the rush?” The glint in the Devil’s eyes alerts you immediately that he’s on to you.

You step in. “We just want to help Charlie out in any way that we can; we thought a wedding would be an excellent idea and there’s no real need to keep waiting like we have been. We’re already married by Wendigo terms, we just want the rest of Hell to know it. Put on a show and the like.” The smile you give him is enough to get him to match it. But you know by the way his eyes flicker that he’s not done trying to get the truth out of you. The Father of Lies would have to know one when he hears one.

“Well, why not make it a true show then? A show rushed is a disaster, after all.”

You begin to say something, but he raises a hand to silence you. All your words become lodged in your throat and it takes everything in you not to glare at him.

_How dare he silence me!_

“How about this: since you’re so _generously_ assisting my daughter with her project and doing this to drum up business for her, why don’t you do it properly? And with _my_ oversight?”

You and Alastor both sit in stunned silence. You look up at him with something like a plea in your eyes. You hope he catches it but, by the look in his, you know that he’s just as lost. That smile is a cover for the terror that’s settling in both of your bones.

“Your majesty, with all due respect—” you start to protest.

“Nonsense! You shall not reject my offer! Consider it a thank you for being so supportive of my daughter in my… _absence_ … not a luxury shall be spared. But I think you need more time, then. How about… _the day after extermination?_ ”

This has you sputtering.

“Wait, what?”

Lucifer is giggling; he looks positively mad as he stands to his feet, shaking his hands much like Charlie does when she’s excited. Except, he’s excited about making you wait for the most terrible day of the year first. And _then_ being able to be married. At his expense. Under his nose. And that’s months away.

He’s called your bluff; you can see by the twinkle in his eye that he’s more than aware that you’re more than what meets the eye. You hear Alastor take a deep breath beside you. You can smell the defeat rolling off him in waves. You’ll have to strategize together again.

“Your majesty, I just… why? Why do all this?”

“Do you not think I value my daughter enough to fret over her friends?” His eyes flash red for a moment and you swallow, thinking hard about what to say next.

“Not at all,” you shake your hands, acting cool despite the obvious threat. “Rather, I’m just saying this is incredibly generous of you. Obviously I’m not rejecting your offer; I would be foolish to do so. Alastor and I would be honored to do this properly to help your daughter’s efforts. I just don’t want to be a burden.”

You lay it on thick; you’ve heard the stories of how he fell. Pride. Ego. And so all you want to do at this point is keep those things happy, rather than in check. This is Hell, anyway.

“Nonsense!” His eyes return to their usual, yellow glimmer and his grin seems even wider. You don’t dare turn to look at Alastor for fear of bursting into tears and giving up your position. “I would be more than happy to assist you in this process! Now, we’ll have to get together a wedding planner, decide on a theme, figure out who to invite….”

Now Lucifer is pacing about in the kitchen, a million different things falling from his mouth in the form of scrambled words and plans. You think you might faint.

You clutch at the kitchen counter, unsure of what to do next. You’re cornered. There won’t be a honeymoon or a chance to escape for months. What now? You might not even survive to Extermination Day, let alone the day after. And what happens if you get hungry? Lucifer will be watching your every move now. _Every_ move. His eyes catch yours and you hide your apprehension as best as possible.

You wish you’d played more poker when you were alive. You make a note to ask Husker for some tips and tricks on how to keep people from guessing your motives. Then again, you wonder if you’ll ever have a moment in private to ask for such a favor without looking even _more_ suspicious.

“So, how about I take you and Alastor to lunch today? Somewhere near the palace that I’ve come to love? They make the _best_ carnival food.”

Something in you brings you the strength to laugh. You know Alastor hates sweets; judging from the way he’s grabbed your hand and gripped it, you know this is going to be a test of both his patience and his palate’s stamina. You can’t say no to the king—especially the King of Hell himself.

“We would love to go, so long as it’s not a bother.”

Alastor’s grip tightens even more on your hand.

“Careful, Alastor! You might hurt her! And we can’t have that!” Lucifer ends his little quip with something like a hiss. Alastor’s grip on you loosens.

_Why would he care if Alastor is hurting my hand?_

Your glowing eyes catch his for the first time; you retain your composure but the evident terror in his eyes is starting to seep out.

“Alastor, darling, do you mind fetching me the champagne I’ve hidden in our room? I think we have an occasion to celebrate.” You’re buying him an out which, to his obvious dismay, he takes. For once, he needs a break from putting on an act. You’re acting far more capable at the political game at this point. Alastor is at a loss.

“What a splendid idea! Charlie and I can discuss wedding ideas with the lucky bride before we go to lunch!”

Charlie shakes her head, suddenly looking gloomy. “I don’t think so. Dad, you can handle this one. I need to go with Vaggie and talk about some management issues. I’ll catch up with you later, Y/n.”

You lock your jaw in place, worried it might drop. _She’s out on wedding planning? Man… she really is pissed at her dad._

Speaking of her dad, it occurs to you that you are now _alone_ in the kitchen with the Devil. He acts aloof to the situation at first, but you know questions are bound to come spouting out of his mouth faster than you can answer them.

You only hope that he can’t force you to answer—truthfully, that is. Taking a breath, you seat yourself at the island in the kitchen and put on your strongest smile. _This is it, Y/n. Don’t flop. Whatever you do, don’t flop._


	27. Kings, Queens and Champagne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor and Y/n continue to play Lucifer's game; in the process, Alastor gets drunk and Lucifer invites a special someone to join him at the hotel to help prepare for the upcoming wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! 
> 
> And screw 2020! 
> 
> Happy to bring you all another update; this one is shorter, but it took me a while to figure out as it's a transition chapter. Things are definitely about to heat up!

“My, Alastor sure is taking his time about getting that champagne,” Lucifer quips. “Perhaps he’s indulging himself early. I didn’t take you as the type to hide things in your room.”

You shrug.

“It was a nicer champagne and I wanted to keep it for something special; not everyone here believes in respecting others’ belongings.”

Lucifer laughs. “Of course not. You sinners are jealous beings—both of the things you do _and_ don’t own.” You can tell he’s not buying your answer. He knows Alastor had to leave for something else.

A silence passes between you both and you wonder if you’ll ever recover from how uncomfortable this all is to you.

Darkness falls over the room; you blink, noticing for the first time that Lucifer’s eyes are… _glowing_. If there’s a feeling for what it’s like to be trapped in a kiddie pool with a Great White Shark, you know for sure that _this_ has to be it. You swallow a lump in your throat as the once jolly clown-demon suddenly looks the part of the Devil.

He stands and quickly closes the gap between you. His voice sounds like darkness incarnate and you’re frozen… helpless….

“Listen up, kid, I know you’re hiding something. I don’t know what it is, but I will find out. If you don’t come clean of your own accord and it’s something that pisses me off, you’ll surely be sorry.”

The door to the kitchen swings open; Alastor steps inside. The ominous feeling previously trying to eat you, well, _unalive_ , subsides.

“Did I miss something?” Alastor’s eyes fall on you; you don’t have to say anything for him to acknowledge you with a subtle tilt of the head. He comes to stand by you. You’re partners for eternity and in crime now. You’re grateful that he’s playing both parts, though once again, the guilt of having put you both in this situation starts to writhe up through your stomach.

“Not at all! I was just commenting that you took a while to get the champagne!”

Luckily, Alastor did think to bring a bottle so as not to make things any more suspicious. You wonder if you’ll ever get to tell your husband what just transpired in the kitchen without fear of being overheard.

You’re shaken back to reality at the sound of the champagne bottle popping. Alastor is pouring everyone glasses. Mechanical is the word that comes to mind as you raise your glass and toast to a wedding way too far in the future for comfort.

_After the Extermination. And thrown by the King of Hell._

If you could run away right now and escape this horrible place, you would. How you ended up in Hell for killing someone in self-defense still escapes you. You want to speak to God in person and give Him a piece of your mind, that’s for sure. But that would only make things worse.

The champagne is smooth against your throat and just enough of a zap to bring you to your senses. Its acrid taste is something of comfort in a moment where you feel… trapped. _Because I am_.

Doing your best to remain composed, you think of something to say.

“What exactly is involved in wedding planning?” You muster a sheepish smile, coiling a finger in your hair. Innocence is everything that you’re trying to convey, even if Lucifer isn’t buying it. “What sorts of things should we be doing since the wedding isn’t for a while?”

Lucifer nods, leaning back in his chair and putting a hand to his chin. It’s a simple movement, but it still appears just as wild as the man—well, demon—himself. Everything about him is grandiose. And _terrifying_ now that you know he is, in fact, on to you and Alastor.

“I know wedding dresses take a while to alter. Tuxedos, not so much. But you, Daisy, should definitely look into some local boutiques.” His head snaps, his smile becoming even more ferocious as his eyes lock back on you. “I know!”

A loud poof is heard and a phone appears in his hand. “I know just who to call! Give me a moment!”

You move to step out of the kitchen, but the doors slam shut.

“No need to rush out; this will only take a minute.” Lucifer wags his finger at you, his eyes shining brighter than before as a person picks up on the other end. “Lili, darling! I need your assistance in something!”

You swear you feel an icy river rush down through your spine. _Lili? As in…Lilith?_ The last thing you need is for the Queen of Hell to join her King. It’s a losing battle, though. You see by the way Lucifer’s smile—it gets _wider_ if that’s even possible.

Alastor pours himself what appears to be a third glass of champagne. You wonder how on earth your husband isn’t drunk already. He appears to be working hard to get there, though. It wouldn’t be wise to join him. One of you needs to be sober for these interactions. Putting on your best game face, you feign excitement as Lucifer slips his Hellphone back into his pocket.

_Why go through the trouble of magicking it here if it was just—_

“My wife is very excited to come! She’s agreed to assist you in finding a wedding dress!” Lucifer turns to Alastor. “My good fellow, you’ve downed almost the entire bottle… why not share more with your generous king?”

Alastor quickly pours Lucifer another glass, not sparing a moment for him to badger him any longer with questions that he’s far too drunk to avoid now. The glassy look of cognitive dissonance has overcome your husband. You fear he might say too much just by being quiet. That’s uncharacteristic for him in more ways than one. Stomach churning, you look about for any sort of conversation topic than the wedding _or_ the strange deaths that you’re definitely responsible for.

“How are things going with Charlie?” You wince, even as the words come from your mouth. Lucifer, to your surprise, pouts. Openly. Like a five-year-old.

His lip drooping, he sighs. “I’m afraid my apple pie is angry with me. But how can anyone blame me? This blasted hotel is a massive blemish to the Magne name. I _rule_ this place. It is to serve as a place of eternal torment. It is my job to ensure people stay here for eternity or get exterminated in the meantime.”

“Why?” Once again, you wish you could keep your mouth shut. But these questions are piping hot and you can’t bear to hold them in anymore. _Like, I have the Devil himself here to talk to. Why not ask him all the questions I’ve ever wanted to?_

At this, he fixes you with a maniacal smile, swiping a chair from thin air to thrust out in front of him.

“Take a seat, little one! Lilith will be a while and _this_ happens to be one of my favorite topics!”

Alastor looks positively faint. You look over to him. “Alastor, darling, why don’t you take a moment to go rest up? I can catch you up to speed on what you miss when you come back.” Your husband lurches, but he’s too drunk to fight you. You wonder if he’s been slipping more champagne bottles into the kitchen while you’ve been fixated on the Devil. The one in his hand now looks much fuller than the one he just poured from to appease the King of Hell.

“B-bu—”

You glare at him, saying nothing more. He knows he’s trapped just as much as you do. You’ll have to lecture him about binge drinking to avoid stress later. Granted, this is a situation far more dangerous than the two of you ever could have imagined. You’ll just have to deal with the Devil _alone_ again.

_Alastor, if I survive this, you are in so much trouble._ Though it’s a thought, you can tell your husband gets the message from the way you glare at him as he stumbles out of the kitchen; a loud snapping noise follows letting you know that he chose to use magic to get himself back to your shared room. Every part of your soul screams to go with him.

“So, you want to know why Hell works the way it does, hm?” 

You turn back to face Lucifer. “Uhm, yes? If that’s not asking too much.”

Lucifer twirls his infamous apple cane. “I can tell you plenty. I must say though, these questions won’t be free. In exchange, _I’ll_ be asking you some questions in return. And I’m afraid I don’t make deals. I make _demands_.” That goofy laugh of his escapes him while you try to uproot yourself from the chair you’re now sitting in against your will. “It is good to be king!”


	28. Out With It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will you be able to hold your own against the Devil? What kinds of questions will you be faced with?

Your hands sweat; you wait for the Devil to ask the first of his questions. Alastor being absent, you’re determined to keep your wits about you and protect you _both_. The Wendigo instinct to protect him is strong, even though you’ve not known each other long enough to justify a bond so thick otherwise.

“So, my dear little _doe_ ,” Lucifer starts. You cringe at the double-pun but let it go. “Why is it that you’re here? _Truly_ here.”

“What do you mean? The hotel?”

Lucifer clucks his tongue, his eyes full of mirthful thought. “Yes, let’s start there again. But you know what I meant so I expect an answer to why you’re in Hell, too. If you answer both, you can ask me your first question about Hell.”

You realize that you’re now being forced to answer _two_ questions for the price of one, but you know that arguing is futile. The way he wraps his claws against the decorative apple on his cane is threatening. _Those things are sharp._

“Well? Cat got your tongue?”

You glower.

“No. As for the hotel, I was attacked when I got here. I saw an advertisement on TV and somehow found my way here. Your daughter very kindly let me in to stay even though I have no desire for redemption. Why I’m in Hell? No idea. I killed a man, but it was self-defense. I suppose murder isn’t excusable.”

“Why did you kill him?”

You swallow. A _third_ question now.

“I… he… I was kidnapped. He was a serial killer. I managed to take him out while I was dying from the drug he dosed me with. He gave me too much, I guess. I stabbed him. A lot.”

A silence follows; Lucifer is grinning like a wild animal.

“Fascinating. I’ve never heard of someone coming to Hell for self-defense. Had you fancied murder before?”

Your cheeks burn. “No! I… I mean, no? I don’t think so?” You’re sputtering, your mind trying to find any evidence of any prior desires while you were alive. You shrug, coming up blank. “If I did, I don’t remember, honestly.” The thudding in your chest slows a bit. Comfort isn’t a safe feeling right now, but you let yourself wear it a bit. _Try not to look guilty, Y/n._

“Hmmm…”

“Do I get to ask a question now?”

“Go right ahead! I do owe you at least one answer, I suppose.”

  
“Is the planet in the sky Heaven?”

“Yes, it is! You see, we are a planet, too. A bit weirdly shaped. Like a layer cake. We’ve got seven layers, too. One for each of the deadly sins. You sinners are in the lowest circle—the Pride circle. I rule over all of them, but this is the one I reside in and deal with the most.”

You smile, grateful that he’s giving you so many answers to one question. _Generous. I don’t feel bad about having to answer so many questions before I get to one… oh no…._ You see what he’s doing, but you hide your enlightenment deep in your soul. He’s trying to get you to _trust_ him.

“My turn! And let’s not cut corners. Do you know anything about those dead sinners?”

If your blood could turn to ice, you’d be frozen. “Uh…”

“I’ve been truthful with you. And I know a lie. Don’t evade.”

Your mind spins, thinking of an exit.

“What if I do?”

“You answer my question first,” he hisses.

“It’s not a question about Hell.”

  
“Doesn’t matter,” Lucifer’s eyes glow a bit; the temperature in the room is up and down like a carousel horse that’s lost control. “You answer me either way. There’s no way out.”

Something in you clicks; light pours out of your hands. They whirr like a projector. Before you can stop it, the memory of your hunt starts to play along the kitchen wall. Chittering like a maniac, Lucifer dims the lights so it plays like a proper movie. You’re forced to watch all over again how you lost control. What happened in the streets. It all comes streaming back into the present; your eyes glow like lamps and your teeth feel sharper in your mouth.

When the last sinner falls and Alastor is coming to get you, the projector stops. Everything in your body is screaming— _run_. Alastor still isn’t back. He still hasn’t come downstairs and now the Devil knows _everything_. _Freaking. Everything._

Something like bravery, for a flit of a moment, consumes you. Your head turns to him; a smile forces its way on your face.

“It was a happy little accident,” you say, quoting Bob Ross. You’re not sure _why_ you would do such a thing in such a terrible moment, but you’re not really sane right now, either. Your eyes are still glowing, tears matching your glowing (e/c) are staining your cheeks and your hair is whipping in a breeze that’s controlled only by your emotions. _And given that I have no control in that department._

Lucifer is silent, appraising you with something like… _pride?_

“You, my little honeybee, are _quite_ interesting. And here I thought I had some treasonous asshole on the loose. In fact, I have a baby wendigo who’s capable of _murdering_ other citizens of Hell!”

A rock seems to have wedged itself in your throat; despite many efforts, it won’t let you breathe. It’s _stuck_.

“Breathe.” His command forces the invisible thing to free you. You gasp.

“Why is it so hard for you people to tell me the truth? Do you know how much time and money I would have wasted searching for insurgents? This is far more fun!”

A wild thought hits you. “Wait, you’re not mad?”

“Quite the contrary!” He giggles. “I want to know what in the nine circles you are!”

You can’t help yourself. “I thought you said there were seven?”

A hearty laugh escapes him again. The ringmaster appearance _really_ suits him. “There are. The idea of nine circles comes from a gentleman known as Dante. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” You nod hastily, realizing just how little you know about this place.

“Why do sinners live in the Pride circle? And why can’t we visit other circles?”

“Them’s the rules, kiddo, them’s the rules. You weren’t born here; you were sent here because of your errant ways, though I _really_ don’t understand why you’re here. It makes no sense. Self-defense has never been a reason to show up. There has to be another reason. And to be able to kill sinners? Only myself, Charlie, and Lilith have been capable prior to this. That and the angels that perform exterminations every year. And now you… and Alastor… and he’s no angel, that’s for sure.”

A snort leaves you before you can stop it and he joins you in the laughter.

“Why do we have the ability then? Is it because we bound ourselves?”

Lucifer shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I could be wrong, but there have been other Wendigo couples. Typically they don’t last long or someone gets exterminated, but I’ve never seen anything like this. Ever. And it looks like you ate out of necessity?”

You nod. “Alastor eats out of necessity, too. Like, other foods just don’t fill him up like others do. It’s almost like how, you know, in books… vampires _have_ to have blood, or bees _have_ to have pollen to help make honey. It’s like a function of our existence.”

Before he can speak, a knock sounds at the kitchen door. Alastor comes bolting in.

“Your little flower and I were just discussing your latest hunting escapade.” Lucifer holds up a hand as a record scratch is heard. “I forced the answer out of her and you both are, for the time being, not in trouble. I’m relieved that I am faced with two crazed Wendigos rather than political threats. Unless I should interpret things differently?”

Alastor violently shakes his head. “No, your highness. I…” he looks at you, “we didn’t realize what was happening when it did, I assure you. Typically I eat and people regenerate. This was a completely unplanned experience. If anyone should be held accountable for any reason, it should be me. My Daisy didn’t know what would happen. I assured her that people would get back up. The little doe would only target people she thought worthy of being targeted in the first place.”

Lucifer faces you. “Is that so?”

A sheepish nod is all you manage. You can’t stop panicking. _Did Alastor just take the blame for me?_ Tears stop just short of falling. More questions are piling on top of more questions, but for the time being, the Devil is _not_ mad at you. Unfortunately, though, he’s not done prodding you for more answers.

“What do you think determines someone as being worthy of extermination?”

“Well, pedophilia, rape, and things of that particular structure top my list. Taking advantage of people in that kind of way is absolutely unacceptable. Targeting the weak… I hate it. I’ll eliminate those people when I hunt.”

Lucifer hums. “Interesting. You and Lili would get along charmingly, I’m sure.”

Nothing in the form of response comes to mind so you stay silent. Alastor is at your side; you’re not sure when and how he got there without making a scene or some obnoxious noise, but you’re grateful for the company.

“What happens now? What do we do? And… how do we figure out how we did what we did?”

Lucifer cackles. “You do it again! But this time, I go along! Not right now, of course. I want to spend more time getting to know you and reacquainting myself with my good friend, Alastor. And Lili is almost here. I want to get her opinion before we do anything more.”

A wrenching pain spirals through your gut at the thought of hunting again, but you know it’s a necessary evil. You’ll be hungry again at some point. You _have_ to eat.

“Fair enough. Thank you.” You manage something of a bow when you stand.

“Of course! Does my apple pie know about this?” You and Alastor shake your heads in unison.

“She’s mad at me for not saying, but we were worried that it would cause more tension between you both. Would it be alright if I told her? It might be a good thing that she learns that you pardoned us. Maybe help ease the hurt between you both?”

It’s dangerous territory, but you dare to tread there. But Lucifer looks even _happier_ if that’s even possible.

“I would be in your debt if you could help me patch up things with my daughter. And my debt is worth more than you could ever hope.”

Debt is the least of your worries. Keeping the King of Hell from deciding that wrath towards you and your husband is more on your list of concerns, so you decide to make that your priority. _Help Charlie and Lucifer heal_.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you smile. As if on cue, Charlie comes storming into the kitchen.

“Charlie, I need to tell you something.” The pleading look in your eyes stops her from going on whatever tirade she was ready to hit her father with. Her presence is terrifying right now; you know a fight is on the horizon unless you distract her with something else. You meet your eyes with the Devil’s, making sure the risk you’re taking is not lost on him.

“I want to tell you about what happened. The other day. And why I couldn't tell you until now. Did you hear about those sinners that died? Like, _actually_ died? And weren’t killed by angel blades?”

Charlie freezes. Her apple-shaped eyelashes bat in confusion for a few seconds.

“I… heard something… yeah.”

“Alastor and I killed them. On accident. When he took me hunting. We didn’t say anything because your dad mentioned trying them as traitors. When he realized it was us, he pardoned us. We just finished explaining what happened to him here. I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just didn’t want to get hurt or have Alastor get hurt because of something that’s… my fault? I still don’t know what happened, but your dad is helping us figure it out and since he’s onboard I wanted to let you know. I know you’ve been stressed and didn’t want to overburden you—” you're engulfed in a hug before you know what’s happening. Charlie pulls back, tears in her eyes.

“I’m so glad you told me.” She turns to her dad. “And… I’m glad you’re helping them and that they’re not after you.” To everyone’s surprise, she rushes her father with a hug. “Thanks, Dad. I love my friends. I’m glad you’re being kind to them.”

For a moment, it looks like the Devil might cry, but you don’t spend time staring. There’s no reason to push him any further in the generosity area. You know there will be strings attached to his helping. But that’s not important right now. Right now, you and Alastor have dodged a bullet the size of Hell. You grip his hand in yours and smile.

“What’s going on here?”

Everyone turns; your mouth drops.

_The Queen of Hell is here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate your patience during my hiatus! 
> 
> I'm working hard at my Ph.D. studies and often find it hard to write at all, but I have missed this fanfic sorely and am glad to be back with an update. It took me a while to figure out what to do, but it finally clicked for me! Let me know what you think!


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